Black Balloon
by cheapxperfume
Summary: Skylar was never very good at coming out and saying things. That's probably why she kept her mouth shut. That's probably why she let Cedric enter the Tournament & a relationship with the girl she hated most. That's probably why she turned to "it." CDOC
1. Scatter Like Ice From The Spoon

**A/N: So, here's the much-awaited Cedric fanfic. Well, maybe I'm exaggerating. **_Stevie: Yes, you are._** A/N: Oh, where are my manners? Please, readers, welcome Stevie the garden gnome. Stevie is my assistant. Seeing as I'm rather inclined to be busy these days, Stevie will be my messenger, guiding you throughout the story. So… yeah. **_Stevie: Hello. I'm a supremely underprivileged gnome that's being forced to take this stupid job, and –_** A/N: Okay, Stevie, that's enough. Let's let them get on with the story.**

One thing you should know about me: Cedric Diggory and I went way back. Back to the years when we could barely form coherent sentences. Our parents knew each other before we were even born. So yeah, that's pretty far back.

Another thing you should know about me: This Cedric Diggory kid? I was insanely, head-over-heels, hopelessly in love with him.

And something else: If he'd known this, maybe we could have avoided the whole "situation." Maybe he would have found out, before it was too late.

Oh, so you want to know what I'm talking about? Truthfully, it kills me to remember it. My seventh year at Hogwarts was simultaneously the best year and the worst year of my life. And after the story's done, well, maybe you'll understand that.

x x x

It was the year of the Tri-Wizard Cup. Well, Quad-Wizard, technically, because of that whole thing with Harry Potter. But more of that later.

The story I'm telling you starts off on the Hogwarts Express. It was two minutes until the train left. If you had happened to look out the window, you might have seen a seventeen-year-old brunette in ripped jeans and a black tee running full out towards the train. You might have laughed and said, "It's going to leave without her."

Well, just so you know – that was me.

And actually, I _don't_ miss the train. But I do miss my footing.

Yep, the moment I get on the train, it lurches forward, and I smack right into someone's chest. Someone's hard, muscular chest. And I know who it is without even looking up.

"Cedrrrric." The name comes out kind of slurred, because I only woke up about a half hour ago and am extremely tired.

"Skyyyylarrr." He tries to copy me but it doesn't sound convincing. Which prompts me to swat him, then give in and hug him. Wretched puppy dog eyes.

He laughs and starts to direct me toward his compartment. "So how was your summer?"

I offer up a long, dramatic sigh. "Murderously dull. Bloody parents grounded me, so I couldn't even make it to the World Cup."

He takes a moment to gloat and does a little victory jig. "The Irish won!"

"Merlin, you think I don't know that?" I groan and shove him out of the way of the compartment door. "The Bulgarians just _let _them win, there's no need to –"

And this is where the mood sours. Because I open the door and find none other than Cho Chang sitting there. In _my _seat.

So, a little background on Cho Chang? Ravenclaw nerd. But she's just the tiniest bit pretty, so of course half the desirable males at the school are pining after her.

And, did I mention, she's sitting in MY bloody seat!

I turn around, right in the doorway, and spit out a few well-chosen words. Calmly, of course. Can't you see how calm I am?!

"Cedric, why the bloody hell is she in our compartment?!"

Because, before this, I don't think he'd ever even talked to her. Once. Now all of a sudden, here she is, sitting in my seat. My mind is jumping to all sorts of horrible conclusions –

He half-smiles. "Relax, Skylar. I just asked her if she'd want to sit with us, since the friends she usually sits with are prefects this year and all."

"Right… well… fine," I sputter. I take a seat across from her and try not to throw her a death glare. Just so long as she doesn't try anything. Because Cedric's pretty popular with the ladies, too… whether he knows it or not.

The conversation on the way to Hogwarts is one-sided. The side involving Cedric and Cho. No matter how hard anyone tries to make it otherwise, I just don't think I'll ever like Cho Chang. I think it's got something to do with the fact that she's always acting superior, just because she's a Ravenclaw.

So I listen to them chat about the Cup and Death Eaters and other cheerful things like that while I sit there and look out the window. Not much else to do, you know. Normally, it'd be just me and Cedric, and we'd be talking about anything and everything. But the presence of Cho changes all that, for some reason.

Eventually we arrive at Hogwarts, and it's pouring rain. Literally. I think a Muggle phrase like "raining cats and dogs" would be in order here. We part ways with Cho and desperately try to keep ourselves from getting soaked, which doesn't work too well. By the time we get to the Great Hall, my robes are plastered to my skin. And I know, without even glancing at a mirror, that my hair looks like hell.

Reminding myself that the rest of the people in the room look just like me, I try to maintain a bit of my dignity and sit down at the Hufflepuff table next to Cedric.

Oh, and if you give me any rubbish about being in Hufflepuff, I swear I will smash your face in. Don't tell me that Gryffindor is braver, or that Ravenclaw is smarter, or that Slytherin is sneakier. Because I bloody well know that. Besides, us Hufflepuffs work _hard_. And that's going to count for something.

Someday.

So anyway, we sit down and then Dumbledore launches into this nice long speech about how there's going to be a lovely little Tri-Wizard tournament this year, but no Quidditch, which sets off quite a few groans – and a particularly loud one from the Quidditch captain sitting next to me. But by the end of the headmaster's speech, Cedric actually seems excited, which scares me. You'd have to be a nobody if you haven't heard of this tournament before, because it's kind of a big deal in the wizarding world. And my dad works at the Ministry, so I knew about this in advance.

I know that it's a good way to get schools to come together and form friendships and everlasting bonds, blah blah blah…

I also know that a lot of people have gotten killed in this tournament, which is why there hasn't been one in over a hundred years.

The way Cedric's going on about it, you'd think he wanted to enter or something. But that's crazy, right? Because there's no way Cedric, level-headed, calm-cool-and-collected Cedric, would ever put himself in a position where he could be killed. Right? You don't have to be in Ravenclaw to know –

But suddenly he completely interrupts my train of thought. We're walking out of the Great Hall after a very satisfying meal, and I'm finally convincing myself that Cedric isn't going to enter the tournament. But then he has to go and ruin it all.

"How about that Tri-Wizard Tournament, Skylar?" he says. "I think I might give it a go."


	2. Thinking About Tomorrow

_Stevie: Well, here's chapter two. cheapxperfume told me to mention that yes, she did borrow the Goo Goo Dolls' song for the title of this fanfiction thing. Let me also insert a side note – if any of you want a free garden gnome, my second cousin's been driving me –_ **A/N: Stevie, I can hear you!** _Stevie: Sorry. Just read the story. The first person to review gets my second cousin for free._

We come to a complete halt and I just gape at him for a moment. "Cedric… are you serious?"

He looks uncertain for a moment. "Well, yeah. Didn't you hear all that stuff Dumbledore was saying? Eternal glory and all that? Not to mention the prize money…"

"B-but…" I'm tripping over my words, trying to get them all out at once. "Haven't you heard about what happened in the past? With all the… um… _deaths_?!"

Shockingly, he takes that as an insult. "You think I can't take care of myself?"

Something else you should know about me and Cedric? We tend to get into little fights for no particular reason. They never last long, though. And usually I lose.

I shake my head furiously. "Cedric, don't be thick. I _know _you can take care of yourself. But sometimes things happen that are out of your control, and there's nothing you can do about it…"

He just brushes me off, infuriatingly enough. "I'll be fine, Skylar." He smiles. "In fact, I think I _will _enter now."

I groan and bury my head in my hands. He's doing this on purpose now. _Why _can't I learn to keep my mouth shut?

x x x

Now, this might surprise you and all, me being the social butterfly that I am, but I really don't have that many friends. Actually, at Hogwarts, Cedric is my only real one. I have acquaintances (a few in Ravenclaw that actually matter, because they're great when you need to cheat), and then there are people I can't stand. Like Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Or my roommate, Carla McGann. They'd make a perfect couple.

She combines Cho's condescending air with a certain quality all her own – a quality that's called ASWP – Annoy Skylar Whenever Possible. And believe me, it does the job.

I come up to my room, wanting nothing more than a peaceful night's sleep, but of course Carla has to decorate. It's been her tradition since our first year – keeping the light on until midnight, until all her posters of Muggle celebrities like 'Orlando Broom' and 'the Groanas Brothers' are in perfect order on the wall. Just part of her ASWP routine, I suppose.

And it works, too, because I can't fall asleep with the light on. Just can't.

This year, though, I decide, things will be different. I'm turning the bloody light off. I _will_ look decent for my first day of school tomorrow.

So I turn off the lights. I don't make it a big deal; I don't get all dramatic about it and say, "Oh, _look_, someone turned the _lights_ off!" I just flip the switch and climb into bed.

Well, of course ASWP makes it Carla's duty to fight back. She walks over and turns it back on.

I fight back a laugh, because I know what I've been forgetting for the past seven years.

I can do magic.

I mutter a spell under my breath – it's something I learned from these two Gryffindors, Fred and George, who have this tendency to prank people. It's a Sticking Charm. Now the light will be stuck in the off position until I choose to make it otherwise.

Carla prances over in the dark and tries to turn it on, but she can't. I can hear her frustration, even if I can't see it. Finally she lets out one irritated little squeal and then she flounces into bed.

I smirk and roll over. I guess poor Orlando will have to wait until tomorrow.

x x x

When I wake up the next morning, the lovely sound of Carla's blaring alarm clock is the first thing that meets my ears._ Why the bloody hell isn't she turning that thing off?!_ I scream inwardly. But then I look over at her bed and mentally slap my forehead.

I should have expected revenge. It's five o'clock in the morning, her alarm is going off… and she's wearing earplugs.

Ah, well. At least I'll have an early start.

I stumble out of bed and shut off the alarm myself, then go into the bathroom and get ready. When I come out a good hour later (had to use up all the hot water, obviously), Carla's still sound asleep.

After a bit more work on my hair, I walk out of the dorm, exit the common room, and make my way into the Great Hall.

Not surprisingly, there are very few students present at the moment – after all, it's only 6:30. But what does surprise me is that Cedric is one of them.

And Cho is another.

Her recurrence in my life over the past two days is starting to bother me. I hesitantly make my way over to the table and sit down next to Cedric.

He offers me his usual bright smile. "Morning, Skylar."

"Cedric." I nod my head in Cho's general direction. "Cho."

She hands me a piece of paper, which I take. "Schedules," she says. "I was just handing them out for McGonagall."

I relax and smile at her. "Lovely." But as she walks away, I look at my schedule and groan. "Double Potions, first thing in the morning! Are they _daft_?!"

"Apparently," Cedric sighs. He waves his schedule in my face. "I've got Arithmancy right after."

We compare classes and find that, aside from core classes, we also share Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination.

"Odd," he says as we leave for Potions, "I could have sworn I dropped that class two years ago."

"I think Trelawney has you coming back for more."

We snigger like a pair of third years.

x x x

So aside from classes, I haven't seen Cedric the whole day. And all during classes, I've been worrying about whether or not he's going to enter the Tournament. Yet I still manage to enjoy Charms, my second-to-last class of the day. It's my favorite one, which isn't surprising, because it's the only one I do really well in. And anything is better than History of Magic with Binns, after all… plus, I have Charms with Cedric.

Today we're doing Sticking Charms, ironically. I manage to tell Cedric about the stunt I pulled with Carla when he's not sticking my tongue to the roof of my mouth. He finds it all very funny.

"This has been going on since first year and you never told me?" he laughs while we're practicing. I wait for him to unstick my tongue, then respond.

"Oh, you know how girls are, Ced," I shrug. "Or should I say, you know how Cho is? How come you guys have been seeing so much of each other lately, hmm?"

I mean it as a casual sort of thing, but he takes me seriously. "Dunno," he says. "We have, haven't we?" He gets cut off, though, because I just performed the Sticking Charm on him.

I flick my wand again, performing the counter charm, and sigh. I almost wish I hadn't said anything. I don't like him thinking about Cho. I just… don't.

Is that wrong of me?


	3. Could Never Reach You

_Stevie: This is chapter three. I don't know why I should have to tell you that… I mean, if you want to know the chapter number, just use your EYES. It really isn't that hard._ **A/N: Stevie, get on with it! **_Stevie: Fine, fine. cheapxperfume thought you guys might be interested in knowing that Skylar's middle name is Robin. Take a look: Skylar (sky). Robin (bird). And the lark in Clark… another bird. Wow. Amazing. _**A/N: Stop being so sarcastic. GOSH.**

Care of Magical Creatures turns out to be a lot more dangerous than usual.

We're dealing with these things called 'Blast-Ended Skrewts.'

I mean, look at the name, for Merlin's sake. Does it sound the least bit pleasant to you? At _all_?!

I'm sure that any normal person would know that if something can kill you in multiple ways, but has no conscience whatsoever, it shouldn't be fed, taken care of, and bloody cooed at. It should be savagely _murdered_.

Hagrid doesn't seem to grasp this concept.

So we spend an hour with a few monsters and an utterly daft professor who doesn't even notice when someone's arse gets lit on fire. Twice. All in all, not my favorite class of the day. And I think my arse agrees.

Cedric, however, is still laughing when we sit down for dinner that night. "Blimey, Skylar, have I ever told you how funny you are?"

"Maybe I'll light your arse on fire and _then_ we'll see how funny it is," I growl at him. But honestly I can't help laughing along. Maybe it was kind of amusing.

No, I take that back.

The Kind Of Amusing Award goes to Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret.

Because while me and Cedric are eating, we happen to notice that there's a bit of a spectacle occurring between some fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors. So, being the meddlesome prats that we are, we go and stick our noses into their business.

We walk over just when Malfoy's yelling something about someone's mother and Harry Potter's mumbling about fat mouths. Then there's a boom out of nowhere.

And suddenly Malfoy's personal space bubble has been taken over by a ferret.

Yes, you heard it right, ladies and gentlemen! Draco Malfoy! A ruddy ferret!

So Cedric and I are both doubling over, laughing our arses off. Turns out the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Mad-Eye Moody, transfigured the prick when the other teachers weren't looking. So now the Malfoy/ferret is bouncing up and down, getting slipped down someone's pants, and participating in other disturbing but strangely enjoyable antics.

It's all good fun until McGonagall comes along and ruins it. She's obviously in a bad mood, so Cedric and I slink back to the common room before we get detentions for being at the scene of the crime.

Overall, it's a pretty predictable first day back. Loads of homework to boot. I have to finish a whole parchment's worth of complicated problems for Professor Vector, so I'm a bit… ah… irritated by the time I'm done. So after I bid Cedric good night and trudge up to my dorm, I decide to take it out on Orlando Broom.

I think he looks much better with a Magic Marker mustache, anyway. Nothing like a bit of graffiti-drawing before bed.

Although I pay for it in the morning with another early awakening.

x x x

He's leaning in…

Beep.

Now I am, too…

_Beep._

He's looking into my eyes with that wonderfully romantic gaze…

_Beep!_

Closer, closer…

_BEEP!_

"If that beeps again, the first thing that moves when I open my eyes will get the pants Avada Kedavra'd off them!" I scream into my pillow-that-is-not-Cedric.

Remarkably, the infernal beeping stops. But I'm wide awake now, and there's no chance of finishing my lovely dream.

Bloody alarm clock.

Well, on the plus side, I've got my first class with Moody to look forward to today.

That's a minus, though, isn't it.

Merlin.

x x x

First impression of Mad-Eye Moody? Definitely mad, creepy eye, and moodier than my own mum, which is saying something. I'm attempting to pass a note to Cedric, but Moody's freaky eye notices it and he snaps it right up. Thankfully, it isn't about him. I think he'd have my head if it were. Literally.

He spends the entire class talking about his achievements in the "field." And not in the Gilderoy Lockhart sort of way… he's telling us all these morbid Death-Eater-killing details. And I'm thinking, no wonder he wasn't afraid of McGonagall. If he's really done all the things he's telling us, it sounds like about a hundred and seventy-three Dark wizards (and Voldemort to boot) have this sort of eternal vendetta out for him.

Which makes me wonder if it's really safe for us to be in the same room as him.

I share my thoughts with Cedric at lunch, and he seems to agree with me. "He's stark raving mad. But a genius," he adds, waving a forkful of Yorkshire pudding around for good measure. "Definitely a genius."

I have to refrain from laughing. Boys.

x x x

Divination today, too – and I've been dreading this class ever since I woke up this morning. See, Trelawney has this thing: she picks a student in third year and predicts their death in every class, in one form or another.

And guess who this lucky student is?

That's right – me. 

Cedric has a right laugh about it. Doesn't matter if it's the line in my hand that looks like a coffin or the fact that my left eye has this one foreboding fleck of blue amid all the green... it's always something with her.

And today it's all Jupiter's fault.

"See, dearie," she's telling me. "Since Mars is aligning with Jupiter in a line that's parallel to Earth, it's affecting your life span even as we speak..."

I fight the urge to bury my head in my hands and try to look attentive. She gives you extra credit if you look like you believe her.

And I think the prospect of extra credit is looking pretty good for me, considering that half the class is asleep.

Oh, goody.


	4. When You Stand They Fall

_Stevie: Well, now that my cousin's gone, it's been dead quiet around here. cheapxperfume has far too much time on her hands. She said to mention her Harry Potter fan fiction bible… harrypotter(dot)wikia(dot)com. She says it's quite helpful. I think it's rubbish. If you want to know something, you ask me, okay? I'm actually the manager of a garden gnome information company… and we even have a toll-free number! 1-800 –_ **A/N: Stevie, SHUT UP!** _Stevie: Fine, fine. Please, for my sake, review. She's so edgy lately._

Time is passing too quickly for my liking. Whether I like it or not, assignments keep building up and stacking and heaping and piling on top of each other, so that it feels like I'm climbing a mountain just to get my homework done each night. If it weren't for Cedric and my Ravenclaw associates, I don't know how I'd get through school.

Luckily, something happens to break the monotone. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, the schools competing against Hogwarts for the Tournament, arrive on October 30th, just in time for a nice big feast.

It's all very dramatic, the way they do it. Beauxbatons flies in on this big carriage and Durmstrang comes in a ship that looks like it was stolen from pirates.

But the biggest surprise of all occurs when Viktor Krum steps off the ship. I gasp loudly and whisper at top speed into Cedric's ear, "Merlin's beard, that's Viktor Krum!"

Apparently the rest of the student body is realizing this at the same time as me, because we're all suddenly murmuring and, in some cases, giggling. I think I hear Romilda Vane, a bloody infuriating Gryffindor slut, among the gigglers. No surprise there.

Cedric takes this time to rub it in again that the Irish won the Cup, but he can't hide the fact that he's as awed as I am. Viktor Krum's still in school?!

I'm still overreacting ten minutes later when we're all in our respective seats and Dumbledore's greeting the new arrivals before inviting us all to eat.

Cedric, being the more adventurous one of the two of us, decides to try some of the peculiar foreign foods that have appeared on the table. I try to follow his lead, but draw the line when he tries to plunk some very purple meat on my plate.

"If you give that to me, I promise you it'll end up on the floor," I warn him. Luckily, he listens to me and takes a bite of it himself.

"Yum," he says. "Dragon."

Merlin. I feel sick. I'm just about to retort when all of a sudden Dumbledore's up and talking again. In short, he introduces Crouch and Bagman, yammers a bit more about the Tournament, and tells us that we have just a day to decide whether we want to submit our name into the Goblet of Fire – the "impartial judge." He also says you have to be serious about entering, because there's a "binding magical contract" and blah blah blah. I've heard this all from Dad already. I glance at Cedric and unfortunately he looks wholeheartedly serious about entering.

The look on his face is so completely blissful, as though he's already won the Tournament in his mind. And that expression makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I'll be okay with him entering.

After all, what could happen?

x x x

He makes me sneak down with him that night so I can be there when he puts his name in. Like it's a court meeting or something, and he needs witnesses.

We walk into the dimmed Great Hall and there it is. The Goblet of Fire. It lights up everything within three feet of itself, bathing it in a sapphire glow. It's beautiful and superior and dangerous and it scares the bloody hell out of me, but Cedric just keeps walking towards it.

He scribbles his name onto a scrap of parchment. Then he turns and looks at me for one long moment. A hundred words crawl up my throat, but I take a deep breath and swallow them back down. This is his decision. This is his time.

Finally, he lets go and drops it in. The parchment spins around in perfect little arcs, then there's a soft hiss and I know there will be no going back after this. I just know.

He sighs and throws his arm around me casually. "What's done is done," he says. "Let's go to bed."

x x x

The next day feels oddly normal. Then again, I don't know what I was expecting. Did I think the Goblet would shriek out Cedric's name when we walked into the Great Hall for breakfast? Or maybe that some unseen force would strike him dead?

I don't know if that's what I was waiting for. But all that happens is some regular old Fred-and-George mischief. They took Aging Potions earlier, expecting that the Goblet would accept their names. But of course it backfires and they end up getting sent to Madam Pomfrey to get two very long white beards removed. Go figure.

It's a Saturday, but Cedric's too nervous about the Goblet to do homework, so we go for a walk around the Black Lake. It's just starting to get cold outside, and the wonderfully crisp air clears my mind, which was still muddled from sleep (or lack of it).

I pull my coat tighter around me and look over at him. He's staring off across the lake and subconsciously biting his lip. Don't ask me why I notice that.

"Ced," I say, trying to make him relax. "It's going to pick you."

"No, it's not," he says miserably, and I know right away that's what he was thinking about. "I heard Angelina Johnson entered, you know, the Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team? She's really fit and everything, she'd probably be the best one out of all of us, I just know it's going to be her –"

"Cedric," I say as firmly as I can. It works a little too well – I sound like someone's mum. He stops ranting and stares at me. "You're fit, too. And Angelina plays Quidditch worse than your dad." Okay, that's a lie, and he knows it. I hurry on. "So, you know, whatever happens… I think you should win."

He smiles and hugs me. "I dunno what I'd do without you, Skylar."

"You'd die, probably." I pull at his hair and grin. The look on his face makes me laugh, and suddenly I'm running and he's chasing me and I'm just breathing in, breathing out, living the moment. I love this life.

x x x

If I thought Cedric was nervous before, it's nothing compared to now, at dinnertime. He's not eating at all, instead choosing to fiddle with the silverware and hum the Hogwarts school anthem under his breath.

It's a good thing Dumbledore's standing up, because I was pretty close to killing him.

We all wait a few breathless seconds, then suddenly the Goblet glows red. A piece of charred paper is spat out.

"The champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore begins. Dramatic pause. "Will be Viktor Krum!"

There's loud cheering and screaming – particularly from Quidditch fans – as Krum stands up and makes his way into the back room.

Everything goes silent as the cup turns red again. Cedric's clamping my hand so hard that I can feel his fingernails start to break my skin. I wince. He apologizes under his breath and loosens his hold a bit, but not much. Another piece of parchment floats out.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

More screams. Whistles erupt from the mouths of several shameless boys as Fleur flounces out of the room.

It's deathly silent as the Goblet goes red for the third time. I throw my previous inhibitions aside and start to chant Cedric's name under my breath, as if that will raise his chances of being called somehow. He's gripping my hand even harder than before, but I can barely feel it.

The parchment's coming out, but it seems like it's moving in slow motion.

I hold my breath.

Dumbledore's got it in his hand now; he's opening it…

Cedric closes his eyes.

"The Hogwarts champion is…"

_Cedric. Cedric. Cedric._

"Cedric Diggory!"

If the cheering was loud before, it sounds as though it's been amplified by infinity now. The entire Hufflepuff table dissolves into a hopeless mass of screaming and shouting. It all feels unreal. Cedric gives me a dazzling smile. Now he's rising from the bench next to me in slow motion, he's walking out to join the other champions in the back room…

I almost pass out from sheer giddiness. He was chosen!

Who cares if deep down, I'm still a little scared for him. He got what he wanted, and I don't think I've ever seen him so happy before in all the seventeen years I've known him. I mean, it's –

On this note, however, I lose my train of thought entirely, because the Goblet's going red again. I mentally check my knowledge of vocabulary – doesn't 'tri' mean three? – and I'm pretty sure I'm right…

But the Goblet spits out yet another name. Confusion reigning on his face, Dumbledore takes the paper in his hand and stares at in shock.

"H-Harry Potter," he says quietly.

And the room goes silent.


	5. And I Go On

_Stevie: So apparently this is the fifth chapter. But there are more important things to discuss. Like my second cousin, who I'm… a bit worried about. He's never been away from home, you know! But for some reason cheapxperfume wants you to know that this fanfiction took her over three months to write. And compared to the Cedric Diggory fanfiction she wrote two years ago, she thinks it's a bit better. Slightly. Maybe. You know, I read it, & personally –_ **A/N: HEY!** _Stevie: Right. OK. Whatever. Just please read it and review. I'm sure that'll make one of us happy._

I pounce on Cedric when he comes into the common room in hour or so later. Literally. I jump on his back the moment he walks in and shout at the top of my lungs, "Why the ruddy hell did Potter have to go and steal the glory?!"

He shushes me softly, and the look on his face is serious and sad. I climb off of him and he straightens. "I don't know," he sighs. "Not even Dumbledore can explain it. It's never happened before, not in all the years they've ever had a Tri-Wizard Tournament. I think Harry got an older student to put his name in." He shrugs. "Of course, he denied it, but I really don't see how else he would've gotten picked."

Cedric flops onto one of the gold-and-black striped couches with a rather depressed air. I put all the questions out of my mind for the time being and try to comfort him. "But, Ced," I say with a smile, "you got in. Just like I said you would."

He cheers up a bit, as though he only just remembered that himself, and throws his head back on the couch. "Of course, Skylar. You're always right, aren't you?"

Don't I wish.

x x x

The next few days are drastically different than my past six years of Hogwarts. Not that Cedric hasn't always been an all-around likable, popular sort of guy. But he definitely didn't have gaggles of simpering fourth years coming up to him, begging him to sign their book bags, or a whole personal squadron of underclassmen that felt the need to escort him from class to class.

I wouldn't mind as much if I weren't stuck in the middle of it all. The girls all stare jealously at me even though everyone knows that Cedric and I are (unfortunately) just friends. And his escorts always seem a bit peeved that he prefers to talk to me instead of them.

But it's all bearable, I suppose, and we laugh about it later. Actually, I think I could almost get to like it – the Slytherins don't hate Hufflepuff for a change (they're focusing all their maliciousness on Harry Potter, who I've begun to feel sympathetic towards), and the other houses are even friendlier than usual. The downside to this sudden friendliness, of course, is Cho Chang.

It's really starting to bother me. The way she giggles at everything he says. The way he smiles an unusually large percentage of the time when she's around. But then again, I'm not sure if they've really got feelings for each other or maybe I'm just a thickheaded, paranoid lump.

I'm opting for the latter at my own expense.

Anyway, a plus to Cedric's championship is that we get special treatment in most of our classes. Professor Sprout dismisses us early from our Herbology class, Professor Vector has outlawed homework in his classroom for the rest of the year, and Hagrid's actually watching to make sure my arse doesn't catch on fire anymore.

Unfortunately, Trelawney seems to be even more certain about my upcoming demise these days. Last Tuesday she ranted for a full half hour about how a mirror will probably shatter on my head, until someone reminded her that we were supposed to be studying those weird squiggly lines on our hands. That's what Cedric told me anyway – I had really needed to catch up on my Z's.

Another teacher who hasn't deviated from regular behavior is Snape, although that's really not much of a surprise to me. The greasy-haired prick hates me as it is, but lately he seems to be even meaner than usual. And today's class is no exception.

"Miss Clark! Stop dreaming about your boyfriend and pay attention!" Snape slams his hand on my desk with a noise loud enough to wake the dead. I jump a little less than five feet in the air and there's a few muffled snickers from the general direction of Marcus Flint. I turn around and flip him off when I think Snape isn't looking… but unfortunately, he is. I think the only thing Trelawney's right about is my bad luck.

"Twenty-nine points from Hufflepuff!" he spits out, glaring daggers at me. "And if I ever see that sort of thing from you again, Miss Clark, I –"

"Professor Snape." It's that wretched Flint again. I resist the impulse to cover my ears. "Sir, I'm just noticing that twenty-nine is an odd number. Professor Vector said that odd numbers have unlucky properties, sir, and I think it would be best to make the number an even thirty."

Unlucky, my arse. That's a lie. Flint's skipped about half of the Arithmancy classes, so he missed the section on odd numbers anyway. But Snape doesn't care.

"Fine. Thirty. Now, as I was saying –"

But I never get to find out what he was saying, because a little boy comes barging into the classroom at that exact moment. And when I say little, I'm being nice. The kid isn't much stockier than a toothpick. He's also about an eighth of Snape's size, and Snape is utterly terrifying when he's angry. And he's furious right now.

"What. Is. It."

Toothpick trips over his words, trying to get them out fast enough. "Sir, I've been sent to get Mister Diggory. He's needed by Mr. Bagman."

I marvel at how squeaky Toothpick's voice is.

Snape is livid, and he doesn't hide it well. "Leave immediately, Mr. Diggory."

I glower at Cedric who smiles widely and takes all of thirty seconds to pack up his stuff. He glances at me, mouths, "Sorry," and literally skips out of the room behind Toothpick, who seems more than happy to go.

Sorry? Sorry doesn't cut it, Diggory! You've ditched me in Double Potions! You've left Snape to murder me! And all you say is SORRY?! This can't get much worse.

It does. We have to spend the rest of class making an extremely complicated Tranquility Potion, and I'm stuck with Marcus bloody Flint as my partner. The prat can't even tell the difference between powdered tortoise shell and ground fairy wings, and yet he gets a passing grade in Potions every year. Stupid Snape with his stupid favorites. Stupid Slytherin in general –

A scream pulls me from my thoughts. Flint has just spilled our Tranquility Potion all over himself. Except I think we mixed up a few ingredients, so instead of calming him, the spill transforms him into an ADD child on pixie dust. (Don't ask. Wizards invent really screwed up drugs and give them even worse names.)

Anyway, now Flint's running around the dungeon, alternating between screaming and giggling like a four-year-old. It would be kind of funny if my own grade weren't dwindling by the second. Saying that Snape's expression is disapproving would be a gigantic understatement. The next time Flint circles the room, I grab him by the back of his robes. I drag him over to the class nerd's cauldron (because he's obviously done with his perfectly concocted Tranquility Potion by now), slop some of it into a cup, and throw it on Flint's face.

He flounders between insanity and drowsiness for a moment, then slips into the latter, collapsing on the floor completely and starting to snore.

I casually throw the cup into my cauldron, which gives out an ominous hiss. "Your potion's too strong," I tell the nerd.

The whole room stares at me, aghast.

I clamp my eyes shut and wait for Mt. Saint Snape to blow.

x x x

"Three weeks of detention!" I yell at Cedric over dinner. I've just told him the whole Potions disaster story, and he's muffling his laughter behind his hand. "It's not bloody funny!" I shout, smacking him upside the head. He just laughs harder. "If you'd stayed long enough, we would've been partners and the Flint Fiasco never would've happened."

He's still laughing.

I give up with a sigh and dig into my treacle tart. "What did Bagman want with you, anyway?"

He sobers up immediately. "They weighed our wands and took some pictures. Oh, and Harry got a twenty-minute interview," he adds as an afterthought.

The tart stops an inch away from my mouth. "That's not fair! What about the rest of the champions? They're actually above the age limit!"

Cedric tries to shrug casually, but I can tell that he's upset. "It's not a big deal," he mutters. "It's just a stupid interview."

A brilliant thought crosses my mind. "Cedric… who was the reporter?"

He glances up, curious. "Rita Skeeter. Why?"

I start to laugh. He stares at me like I'm crazy. "Seriously, Skylar – why?"

I shake my head and smile at him. "She did a piece on my dad once. Just wait until tomorrow. You'll be glad you weren't interviewed."

x x x

The fresh edition of the Daily Prophet arrives by owl the next morning and only proves me right. Cedric reads the first few sentences and starts to laugh. "Oh, the poor bloke…"

I glance over Cedric's shoulder and scan the article myself. Apparently Harry's a complete prat who milks his parents' deaths for all they're worth, is overconfident in himself, is twelve years old, is dating fourth-year Gryffindor brain Hermione Granger, and is best friends with Colin Creevey.

I think the last one is what gives Skeeter's lies away. I'd rather Avada Kedavra myself than even be acquainted with Creevey.

The only downside to this highly degrading story is that Cedric's name has not been mentioned at all. Not even once. He doesn't seem to notice though – he's too busy laughing.

"Look at this," he says, leaning over. "'Sometimes I still cry about them at night, I'm not ashamed to admit it…' I really should have everyone lay off Potter, shouldn't I? This thing's bad enough without a bunch of Hufflepuffs getting on his case…"

That's one of the things I love about Cedric. He's always thinking about everyone else.


	6. As You Get Colder

_Stevie: You know, I'm basically the poster child for abused gnomes. I mean, look at this! cheapxperfume is forcing me to introduce every single chapter of this story! I've decided to form a group. I'm calling it AGGHH (Abused Garden Gnomes Hate Humans). If you want, you can call us toll-free to whine about life or whatever, 1-800 – _**A/N: No advertising, Stevie!** _Stevie: Please. Please just review. She gives me a cookie for every review. And I know you want to make the poor garden gnome happy._

The first task of the Tournament is approaching much faster than Cedric wants it to. I think the worst part is not knowing what it is. I've been helping him go over all of the spells he might need, seeing as Charms is my best subject and all, but I'm just not sure if it'll be enough. I mean, the first task could be anything. It could lions or tigers or bears – oh my!

Either way, the anticipation is mounting, and Cedric hasn't done enough of his homework for me to copy it. He keeps moaning about how he's going to get murdered in front of the whole school.

Frankly, I'm more worried about my Transfiguration grade right now.

x x x

A Hogsmeade trip occurs the weekend before the first task. I practically drag Cedric there to force his mind off the Tournament for a few carefree hours. It's hard work getting him there, but seeing the smile on his face when we walk into Honeydukes is definitely worth it.

We hang around there for a while, snacking on Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs, but then it starts to snow. So of course I make Cedric leave so we can wander around in it for a bit.

I love the snow. I really do. It's so beautiful and light and pretty. It makes me think of happy things and I can't help but smile as Cedric and I walk around together. People are flocking to the Three Broomsticks in throngs, and Cedric tries to pull me in that direction, too. But I don't feel like going inside just yet.

"Aw, come on, Cedric, I know you," I say, laughing. I throw myself down on a snow bank and start to move my arms up and down, back and forth. "Don't you remember when we were little? You used to love making snow angels, Ced. Don't tell me you're too grown up for that now."

I stand up, adjust my scarf, and look down at the angel – it's perfect. Cedric just stares at me for a minute, and then he starts to chuckle. I pull my sky blue hat down around my ears and glare at him teasingly.

"What, are you scared?"

That's when he gives in. He grabs my hand and pulls me down with him. Laughing, I land partially on top of his chest. We're practically nose-to-nose. I think I stop breathing for a second or two. My heart's pounding loudly against my chest; I hear it magnified in my ears and hope he doesn't notice.

Cedric gives me this really strange, indecipherable look and gently pushes me off him. "Come on, let's make a whole angel army, like we used to," he says, breaking the silence.

I hear him moving his arms in the snow beside me, but for a moment I just lay there in the cold and picture his dazzling eyes in my mind one more time. They're the most beautiful grey-blue I've ever seen. Like an autumn sky that couldn't choose between a rainstorm and a sunny day, so it just combines both. Like that. It's beautiful.

I'm still getting my breathing back to normal when I feel him nudge my shoulder. I look over and he's lying next to me, smiling.

"If you don't hurry up," he says, "I'm going to make more than you."

And that's how the Snow Angel War begins.

We're out there for an hour at least, until we're cold and wet and freezing and think we could do with a good butterbeer or two. So we walk into the Three Broomsticks, and guess who's there?

Yep, Cho bloody Chang.

She sits down at our table empty-handed. No schedules or homework as an excuse to be here this time. Cedric offers her some of his butterbeer, much to my dislike, but she declines. Instead she sits there and flips her hair and giggles incessantly and chats with Cedric, MY Cedric, about random little things that don't matter. I know now that she's flirting with him.

But the prat that's supposed to be my friend doesn't invite me to join the conversation at all.

Isn't odd how you can be surrounded by people – and when I say surrounded, I mean packed like a tin of sardines – but still feel completely, utterly alone?

I don't even try to involve myself. I know it won't do any good. I can see by the look on Cho's face that she's trying to keep me out of this on purpose. Maybe Ravenclaws are smarter than I give them credit for.

I look around the room, fingering the butterbeer cap on the table. I don't really see anybody I know – except Marcus Flint. I grimace, the Flint Fiasco still marring my thoughts, and look out the window. Now there's something I know. Pure white fallen drifts of snow glint and catch the winter light. It's so wonderful it makes my heart ache. And that's terrible, because thanks to the boy next to me, my heart already aches enough.

I'm up and out the door before they even realize I'm gone. I'm half-running, half-walking, desperate to get away from the sound of Cedric and Cho bonding. I just need to get away.

There are a few people walking around in the snow, but not many. I realize I'm still running. Even faster than that new version of the Firebolt, I'd like to imagine. Soaring, flying, high above the clouds like a bird or one of those Muggle airplanes.

I take a huge leap and land shakily on one foot. Exhilaration and adrenaline speed through me as I start to grin. I take another jump, this one further than before. If I time it just perfectly to match the direction of the wind, I almost feel like I really am flying.

I keep doing it. I keep jumping. I don't know what makes me. I just do. But in the end, a fallen tree branch trips me and I go sprawling across the bitter cold half-ice.

I check myself for any serious wounds – none. Shrugging, I try to get up; it's then that I find the problem. My ankle. I can't stand on it at all.

I try walking on one foot, but I'm a horribly coordinated person to begin with. I don't think a sprained/broken ankle helps much. I collapse back on the snow, bruising my calf in the process.

Looking around, I realize that I'm in trouble. There's nobody nearby. I'm surrounded by mounds and mounds of snow, and the snow isn't my friend anymore. It's a cold hard enemy that causes things like hypothermia and pneumonia and… death.

I shiver subconsciously. Maybe I should cast a warming charm… we just practiced those a few days ago during class. I dig around in my coat, trying to find my wand. Except it's gone. Now I'm really panicking. I search all my coat pockets, then my jeans, but it's definitely gone. It must have fallen out when I was hopping around like an idiot in the snow.

I can't fly. I'm not a bird. I'm an ignoramus of a Hufflepuff. I'm a wandless, brainless excuse for a witch and now I'm going to freeze to death.

I don't know how long I sit there. Maybe thirty minutes, although it feels much, much longer. The cold gradually seeps into my bones. After an hour, I'm almost completely numb. I have no feeling in my feet and my fingers feel like ice blocks. Another hour passes. Growing desperate, I try to drag myself across the snow, but to no avail. I have zero energy and only one working leg.

Another thirty minutes. I risk a glance at my ankle and grimace. It's a swollen purple-blue color. I decide not to look at it again.

Another thirty minutes. My stomach growls. The sun's starting to sink below the horizon. I hope that someone will send out a search party. Maybe Cedric has already noticed I'm gone? … Or maybe he's still too busy with Cho to remember a girl named Skylar Clark exists. I try to tell myself it doesn't matter.

It does. My fingers are starting to turn blue. If I squint, they sort of shine like sapphires.

I'm not sure of the exact time I become delirious. All I know is that the snow has finally gotten to me. I imagine a world far, far away, where it's sunny and warm.

And soon after that, I sort of slump into nothingness.

x x x

"Skylar!"

No, no, go away. It's so nice and comfy in Nowhere-Land.

"Oh no, no, no! SKYLAR!"

Didn't I just tell you to leave me alone?

"Over here, she's over here! Oh, Skylar, no, please, no, please be okay Skylar, please…"

Can't you take a hint?!

"My God, Skylar, you're so blue. You're so cold. Please be okay, Skylar, I need you."

I'm fine, what are you so worked up about? Why don't you just leave?

"Hurry up, she's here! … Come on, Skylar, talk to me, I know you're in there!"

Yes, I think we've established this already. Now go.

"I just found her lying here, I think there's something wrong with her ankle… looks like she's been out here for hours, her skin… it's so cold…"

No, actually I'm quite warm. See, there's a light…

"Hang in there, Skylar. You'll be okay. I promise."

I know I'll be okay; I'm fine. I'm just going to follow the light now; it's so pretty… I'll follow it…

x x x

When I wake up, I take in three colors. The stark white of the hospital wing beds. The cherry red of a bouquet of roses. And the grey-blue of Cedric's bloodshot eyes.

The moment he sees I'm awake, he practically leaps out of the chair and throws his arms around me. "Skylar! You're okay!"

I see that paths of dried tears streak his pale face. Seeing him vulnerable like this terrifies me. It's never happened before. I try to answer casually. "Yeah… I'm fine… just cold…"

He picks up another blanket out of nowhere and throws it on top of me. This one's midnight blue, I notice. The color of a midsummer night's sky. "What happened?" I ask.

"Well, I didn't see you for the rest of the Hogsmeade trip. I thought you'd gone back already. But when Cho and I got to the castle, we couldn't find you anywhere. I got so scared, Skylar, you have no idea…" He passes a shaky hand over his face. "I told a few teachers and we got a search party together. We looked all over Hogsmeade, it must have been at least an hour before I found you. I… I thought you were dead…" He chokes. "It was the most petrifying moment in my entire life."

I feel embarrassed. I hadn't meant to cause such a fuss. "I'm okay, really, Ced. See, my ankle's all better now." I pull back the multiple blankets and move my leg around a bit.

He hugs me again and gives me a weak smile. "I know. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Never better. Really."

He frowns. "But what'd you do to your ankle anyway?"

I blush. "Nothing."

"Come on, Skylar. Don't make me force it out of you…"

In the end, I tell him about the whole pretending-to-fly scenario. He laughs so loud that Madam Pomfrey makes him leave. But I can still hear him laughing outside, all the way down the hall.

All in all, it's good to be out of Nowhere-Land.


	7. No Time Left For Losing

_Stevie: You know, it's really not fair that cheapxperfume gets spring break and I don't. I mean, there she is in the next room, raving about some guy named… Robert Pattinson? I dunno. But anyway, the point is that I'm here, clacking away at the keyboard, and she's over there watching movies. It's not fair, I tell you, it's not. Apparently she wants me to let you know that they did a cover of Black Balloon at the Valentine's Day assembly at her school… and she screamed really loud? I don't know why she thinks these things matter. I'm only here to beg for reviews._

Madam Pomfrey won't let me out of the hospital wing right away, so I have to stay an extra day or two. Cedric promises to bring me all my homework and everything, but he's not too happy about delivering the message that I won't be able to attend Snape's detention. Can't blame him, really.

But unfortunately for me, I'm stuck in bed all day. I try to read, but I can't focus. I try to write a letter to my mum and dad, but I can't think of anything interesting to say. Eventually I just take all the flowers out of the bouquet and start picking off the petals, one by one… He loves me… He loves me not…

I'm on my thirteenth flower when Cedric bursts into the hospital wing sometime after dinner. His face is as white as a sheet. "Dragons," he chokes out. "First task… dragons…"

I stare blankly at him, then risk a quick glance toward Pomfrey's office. It's closed. Cedric pulls up a chair beside my bed, still breathing unsteadily.

"Relax," I say, trying to sound like a psychiatrist. "Just breathe, Ced, and tell me slower this time."

He glares at me, then takes a deep, shaky breath. "Potter told me earlier today. For the first task, we have to battle a dragon."

I get it now. My eyes widen, then narrow. "But why should we trust Potter?" I snort. "I mean, just look at all the rubbish that Skeeter woman wrote about him –"

"Which you said was all lies anyway." Cedric sighs. "Just look at the facts, Skylar. We don't have much else to go on." He pauses to lug out a few heavy books from his bag. "Now, I need your help. I brought a bunch of books on dragons, so we should look for the –"

I barely pay any attention to the books I'm supposed to be reading. All I can think about is Cedric, alone, facing a humongous, fire-breathing dragon.

I think that's the whole point of denial. So you don't have to think about what could happen if the thing you're denying is true.

x x x

The countdown of the final hours to the task is a blur of vibrant colors and murmured phrases. Cedric and I completely ignore all our teachers, instead focusing on his plan to take on the dragon. When Professor Vector finally notices we're not listening, he regretfully moves us to opposite sides of the room. I block out a meaningless lecture on the magical properties of quadrilaterals and doodle a miniature dragon on the edge of my parchment. It looks too cute and unrealistic, like something out of the My Little Ponies line. I laugh hysterically under my breath to relieve some of the nervousness building up in my gut.

Because that worry for Cedric has come back, multiplied.

Much to my dismay, he gets let out of class early, and we're right in the middle of Potions, making a ridiculously complex Infatuation Potion. The only comfort I get after Cedric leaves is watching Flint completely destroy his own potion. It resembles several lumps of moldy goat cheese by the time we're done. You can almost see the internal battle play out across Snape's face – fail his favorite student and actually give a correct grade for once? Or live up to old Slytherin prejudices and let the prick get away with another top mark?

Being Snape, he chooses the latter. And, as Flint skips away, he fails me and tells me to hurry out to the First Task or he'll give me extra homework. Like I need any urging.

I have to sit by myself in the bleachers; I'm guessing that Cedric's already getting debriefed or whatever. I hope he doesn't look too guilty when they tell him it's dragons. We've got a good plan laid out and I don't want him to get disqualified before it goes into action.

Listen to me. I almost sound excited! What's wrong with me?!

A few minutes later, Cedric's out. I can see, even from here, that his face is a very interesting shade of green. I'll have to tease him about it later.

But during his whole encounter with the dragon, I find myself wondering if there's going to be a later. We had a pretty good plan – Cedric would use his Transfiguration skills to turn a rock into a dog. We'd expected that the dragon would go after the dog instead of him. Well, it sort of did.

When Cedric first comes out, the dragon just stares at him, breathing steam very slowly through its nose. Then it lets out this almighty roar. Everyone claps their hands to their ears and grimaces, but Cedric is undeterred. Suddenly there's a cute little Labrador scampering around the Pitch.

Dragon snaps at it angrily, but Dog is not afraid. It bounces back with a sharp little bark and runs in the opposite direction. I hold my breath. Move, Cedric, move!

For a moment, he seems frozen in place, watching Dog and Dragon do their strange little tango. Then, out of the blue, he remembers what he's supposed to be doing: getting the golden egg from Dragon's nest. He finally starts to run.

Now, don't get me wrong – Cedric is one of the fastest, most athletic people I know. Especially compared to me. But he's up against a bloody dragon. And I know from the moment that Dragon sees Cedric that his chances just got very, very small.

There's another roar, followed by a burning gust of flame. I can feel the heat from my spot in the bleachers. It's so sweltering that the air feels tangible for a moment, like I could grab a chunk and stuff it in my pocket. Then suddenly it's gone.

I squint through the smoke, trying to get a better view of Cedric, and then I have to stifle a gasp. He's been hurt! Half of the skin on his face has been scalded by the sheer heat of the flames. I start to hyperventilate without realizing it.

He's only a few feet away from the golden egg now, but Dragon's still chasing him. Dog is completely forgotten and has curled up into a ball, making pathetic squeaky noises. I cover my eyes and whimper.

The whole Pitch is dead silent except for Cedric's footsteps and the sound of Dragon's roars and heavy breathing. For a moment the steps pause, like Cedric has just leaped a good distance. Or been captured by Dragon. I hold my breath.

Suddenly cheering shocks through the stands, like thunder in a rainstorm. I peek through my fingers just in time to see Dragon stand on its hind legs and roar painfully; Cedric's gotten the egg! He holds it up victoriously, a tired smile lighting up his face until a few MediWizards come onto the Pitch and float him off on a stretcher.

I'm on my feet in milliseconds, running towards the First Aid Tent, where I know Cedric's going to be. At first, Pomfrey doesn't let me in. Then she recognizes me as the broken ankle girl and sighs. "Okay, but make it quick."

I thank her hurriedly and rush over to Cedric, who's still on a stretcher. I pause and stare, despite myself. "Oh… Ced…"

"You don't have to say it. I look terrible." He gives me a weak smile, because he knows he's right. The entire left side of his face is a horrible, shiny red. It looks like Hell took up a part-time residence on his face.

"No, no, you look fine," I lie casually. I take the ointment from the table next to his bed and start to cake it on the burn, talking just to keep myself busy. "Delacour's up next now, you know," I babble. "She's probably going to start crying the moment she singes her pretty hair, I don't know why anyone from Beauxbatons even entered the Tournament; they're so prissy. Krum's probably going to use some amazing Quidditch strategy, but I don't know what Potter's going to do. Run for it, probably. Go hide out with his Muggle family for a few years, maybe, get a name change. Or maybe –"

I stop, because Cedric's got this really weird look on the part of his face that I can see. "Do you want me to shove it?" I ask.

"No, I was going to ask you to keep going, actually," he says, closing his eyes half-way. "You've got a really nice voice, Skylar, has anyone ever told you that?"

I pause again, but this time simply out of surprise. My voice has been called a lot of things, but definitely never "nice." Maybe Dragon hit him on the head, too.

x x x

It's supposed to be a short visit, but Pomfrey can't seem to get rid of me, and Cedric turns the famed Diggory charm on her, so she gives in and lets me stay. After the last champion (Harry) has gone, more people start trickling in – Cho included.

"Oh, Cedric!" she says dramatically as she enters the room. Yep, right on cue – the flirtatious hair flip, paired just perfectly with the sassy smile. Mister Champion just lies there and eats it all up. I turn away and gag.

Cho starts yammering about how it's completely unfair that Potter and Krum tied for first, and how Cedric totally should've gotten their spot, because what he did was so amazing, and…

I'm about to tell her that I'M the one who came up with the dog idea, but I bite my tongue before I give Cedric away. In the end, I just walk out.

Stupid Cho.


	8. Could I Have Been The One?

_Stevie: So the big problem today? Our not so wonderful "Internet" connection. Dunno what Internet is, exactly, but cheapxperfume's been going on about it quite a bit. Anyway, turns out I'm a "computer" prodigy, and I got it to work long enough to post this! Needless to say, I'm pretty proud of myself._ **A/N: I can't believe I'm saying this, Stevie, but… good job. Now let them get on with it, please?**

When Cedric gets back to the common room a half hour later, there's a party awaiting him. Someone rips a yellow-and-black curtain from the window and drapes it around him like a cloak. His face, now fully healed, lights up in a happy smile. His thoughts are written on his face: it's done, it's over. I don't have to worry anymore. Not tonight, at least.

In less than ten minutes, a full party is raging. One little known fact? Hufflepuffs sure know how to party. A couple other seventh years smuggled in some firewhisky past Filch in some very illegal way. A few of us have pushed back all the couches and chairs to clear a dance floor. Couples do some dirty dancing as Muggle punk rock music blares through the hidden speakers. Apparently all the teachers are turning a very deaf ear tonight, because you'd have to have some pretty thick earmuffs to keep this kind of sound out.

Oh, and before you ask, no, I do not, will not, shall not, EVER dance. I instead choose to sit in the corner of the room, nursing a bottle of firewhisky and people watching.

It doesn't take long for Cedric to see me sitting there alone. He breaks away from his group of old Quidditch friends and sits down across from me, smiling slightly.

"Come on, Skylar, it's a party. Don't be such a loner." He notices the bottle of alcohol in my hands and frowns. "Why're you drinking that?' he half-whispers.

Cedric's mum drank a lot. She was manic-depressive, bi-polar, the whole lot. Really messed up woman, though I'd never say it to Cedric's face. She killed herself when he was just a little kid. Cedric's never touched alcohol in his whole life because of that.

Now, look at me. What do I have to lose?

I take a long swig. I hold my liquor pretty well, if I do say so myself. The firewhisky burns on the way down, but I don't choke like I used to. I just get this pleasant buzz.

I shrug carelessly. "It makes me feel good," I say, waving the bottle around for emphasis. "I'm only drinking a little. Like you said, it's a party."

Cedric bites his lip and gives in with a sigh. "I'm going to have an eye on you, Skylar. And if any guy tries to get in your pants just because you're drunk, you're responsible for the damage I do to him."

We both laugh. He ruffles my hair, stands up, and goes to mill through the crowd, chatting with friends and dodging groupies. I sit there and take another gulp. I'm not people watching anymore. I'm Cedric watching.

x x x

December makes a dramatic appearance with snow and sleet. I spend a lot of time procrastinating essays for Snape and diagrams for Trelawney so I can look out the window. Outside is so peaceful this time of year. Nothing but snow and footprints.

Too bad the peacefulness doesn't extend to inside the castle.

There's the homework, of course, and the ever-present Cho Chang. Cedric spends a lot of time puzzling over that golden egg he got in the first task, so I don't see him as much. I feel weirdly alone a lot of the time. I've resorted to the library.

For my entire time at Hogwarts, I've been invisible. And for the first time ever, that's finally starting to come in handy. When you're invisible, you see things no one else sees. And a lot more goes on in the library than you'd expect.

I see Hermione Granger with Viktor Krum a lot. Never thought I'd say this, but they actually make a cute couple. I wonder if her redhead friend knows. I've seen the way he stares at her. Lovesick. I know how he feels.

Thanks to the several couples I've caught snogging behind bookshelves, I now know the difference between studying and "studying."

Cedric visits me in my library corner when he's not busy with the egg. He reminds me that I'm not really invisible, that I'd need a cloak for that. Then he sits down and copies _my _homework for a change. Usually that goes on until I have to leave for detention with Snape.

I loathe that man. He lives to make everyone miserable. And he's pretty good at it. I mean, all you have to do is look at his face, and… yuck. He makes me scrub the floor in the dungeon. Without magic. How cliché can you get? I think he purposely dumps some sort of animal guts on the floor by his desk, just so he can hover over me with a dictatorial air and watch me scrub. What an arse.

But the point is, I'm making it through my seventh year okay. At least until Sprout makes that one announcement during class…

I've just successfully severed the head of a Flesh-Eating Slug that's trying to ruin a Shamanistic Cabbage. We're supposed to be saving the cabbages so we can use them in Potions class. I'd burn them all if I could, but then I'd probably fail Herbology. Anyway, I've got greenish slug insides dribbling down my glove and Cedric's holding in his laughter at the disgusted look on my face. I'm preparing to slap him with the slimy glove when Sprout suddenly clears her throat and the whole class looks up. I hesitate and finally drop my hand with a sigh. I'll get him later.

I only tune in every other minute, but I get the gist of what she's saying. Thanks to the hullabaloo concerning the Tri-Wizard Tournament, there's going to be a big Yule Ball so all the students can intermingle and become best friends and la-di-da. Balls, dances… they all make me nervous. Basically I can't dance. Haven't we been through this already?

But Cedric has this absolutely enthralled look on his face. It's kind of starting to worry me. Since when has Cedric cared about a stupid ball? He hasn't even got anyone to take… does he?

Herbology's our last class today. We trudge side by side in the general direction of the Hufflepuff common room. We're quiet for a few minutes; I'm afraid to say anything. I don't need to worry though. Cedric still manages to break everything.

"I'm going to ask Cho, Skylar." His voice cracks with excitement and anticipation. "D'ya think she'll say yes?"

Oh, look, my heart. Out there on the ground. See, Cedric? You just ripped it out. Careful, don't step on it.

"You do approve of her, right?"

Mm. Too late. Stomp, stomp, stomp. Now I have to lie about a girl I despise more than anyone else.

I fake a very large smile. "Of course, Ced. Go ahead and ask her. I'm sure she'll say yes."

Bloody hell. Of_ course_ she'll say yes. I doubt that even Fleur Delacour would say no to someone as utterly amazing and perfect as you, Cedric.

He smiles and gives me one of those cute, just-friendship hugs. "You're bloody brilliant, Skylar. Now I'm going to go ask her before someone else does. I'll see you later, aye?"

I just nod. As soon as he's a safe distance away, I drop my bag on the ground and kick the nearest wall. Hard. Pain bursts through my foot in spasms, but for a moment I forget everything else except the ache in my foot. It's strangely relieving. But it doesn't last long enough.

I pick up my bag with a groan and keep walking. Now the throbbing pain in my left foot is yet another reminder of everything miserable in my life.

But that's Skylar Clark for you. I set myself up for the letdown.

x x x

Cedric comes into the common room a few hours later, his cheeks a rosy red and his smile so wide that it barely fits on his face.

"She said yes," he states unnecessarily.

"Well, I hope you two have a wonderful time," I say casually.

His smile fades a bit. "Aren't you coming?"

"No, Cedric, I don't believe I am." I stand up and walk towards my dorm.

"Why not?" he calls after me, bewildered.

My hand rests on the doorknob for a moment. _Because I love you. Because I love you and you're going with Cho bloody Chang. And because I love you._

I shrug. "I've never been good at dancing," I call back.

He's satisfied with the answer. I'm not. I open the door, slam it shut, and fling myself against it. Before I know it, I'm sobbing and my whole body is burning with pain. I think I know what it's like to have your heart broken.

If I survive the night, I'll be a walking medical miracle.


	9. Coming Down

_Stevie: So cheapxperfume was going ballistic today. Something about loving her reviewers "sooo sooo much." What a ham. Oh, wait, she's going for the keyboard…_ **A/N: My apologies for Stevie's overdrama, but I am pretty happy about the reviews I've been getting lately. Of course, I know there are always going to be people who have this on alert and never review, but it would make my day if you did. I'm not going to pressure you by saying, "No updates until I get 32478392472 reviews!" **_Stevie: I might though._ **A/N: -but I'm going to tell you that it really truly makes me smile to see that review in my inbox. So that's pretty much it. Enjoy loves. :)**

Maybe an outsider wouldn't notice the difference in our relationship, but I do. I see how Cedric's eyes gravitate towards the Ravenclaw table during meals in the Great Hall. I know where he goes now in those long absences, after which he reappears with tousled hair and another stupid grin. And I know his true feelings. There's no more guesswork about the hugs or the times he meets my eyes. I know everything.

It's been a week since Cedric asked Cho to the ball. He sits with her whenever Ravenclaw has classes with Hufflepuff. I hate the way he just casually chooses her over me. Although they are technically an "item" and I'm just the best friend that gets shoved to one side.

I'm working on a To-Do List in those classes I'm alone.

1. Get over Cedric.

2. Finish the ever-looming History of Magic essay.

3. Get over Cedric.

4. Buy the new Weird Sisters album.

5. Get over Cedric.

6. Find out who's supplying Hufflepuff with all the firewhisky.

7. Get over Cedric.

8. Come up with a really good excuse for not going to the Yule Ball.

9. Get over Cedric.

10. Avada Kedavra Cho Chang to Azkaban and back.

None of them are remotely possible. Except #6. Maybe.

x x x

The Yule Ball is tonight and I still haven't come up with a good excuse. Cedric begged me to go, so I just replied with a lame "I don't have a date." Which is true, but actually someone did ask me. Ernie MacMillan, in fourth year. I'm three years older.

I said no. I was actually embarrassed for him.

But that's beside the point. I've escaped Cedric's relentless questioning in the common room ("Why didn't you just _ask _a bloke to go with you? I don't know why you're so old-fashioned, Skylar, a lot of girls in our year did it…") and I've just walked into my dormitory.

Carla's sitting in front of the mirror, curling her hair with some spell she got from Witch Weekly. She's already wearing her dress – a neon green ensemble that makes my eyes sore if I look directly at it for too long. I hope for her sake that her date is wearing bright orange; it's the only thing that'll match.

She glances up when I walk in. Her eyebrows disappear into her partially curled hair when she sees I'm not wearing a dress. "Skylar? You're not going?"

I shake my head and flop down on my mattress.

"But I thought you and Cedric…" she trails off.

I guess I must look really pathetic, because after two more minutes of silent hair-curling, she throws down her wand and stands up dramatically. "Don't ever expect me to do this again, Skylar," she says. "But I'm going to let you borrow an old dress of mine."

She emphasizes old so that I don't think she's being overly nice to me. I guess a combination of holiday spirit and the fact that she's going with Terrence Something-or-other (one of the best-looking fellows in Hufflepuff) has thrown her off the ASWP routine. For tonight, at least.

She goes over to her dresser and rummages around in the bottom drawer, eventually producing "the" dress. Alarmingly enough, I have discovered that Carla actually owns something I would wear. It's a simple black thing, with white off-the-shoulder straps and a mildly plunging neckline. A few white hearts are scattered around the left hip and there's a long slit that begins around the knee area. I imagine that I'd look… dare I say, sexy in it?

I'm still staring at it when Carla throws it on my bed. "I got it from my aunt a few years ago," she says with a shrug. "If you end up wanting to go, at least you'll have something to wear."

I'm still in shock. In all the years Carla has been my roommate, she never once said so much as one nice word to me. Now here she is, giving me a dress. Like a peace offering.

I make a mental note to never insult her Orlando Broom poster again.

"Thanks, Carla." I clear my throat. "I don't think I'll be going, but thanks anyway."

She nods, then squeals when she notices the clock on the bedside table. "Oh, I'm going to be late! Terrence will kill me!"

She grabs her bag and a furry white shawl from her chair (I hope that no adorable critters were harmed in the making of it) before flouncing out the door.

I listen until her high-heeled footsteps have completely died away, and then I leap into action. I've known Carla for about six and a half years now. So I've learned a few things about her. Like the fact that she'll dye her hair and realize she hates it a week later. Or the fact that whenever there's a party, she's always the one lugging in the bottles of firewhisky. I don't know where she gets it from, but she's got to have a stash somewhere in our room.

I go through all the drawers on the table beside her bed. Nothing but jewelry, a broken watch, some faded notes from ex-boyfriends… what's this?

A bright pink notebook with the words "MY DIARY" scrawled in big bold letters across the middle momentarily distracts me. Carla is many things, but she is not subtle.

I glance around out of habit. Seeing nothing suspicious, I open it.

Mostly I scan the pages for anything about me, but every now and then a word catches my eye (like "bloody hell" or "spawn of Voldemort") and I find myself reading about yet another break up or one-night stand. Carla's careless lifestyle disgusts me. I'm almost to the point of slamming the book shut and carrying on with my search when Cedric's name shows up and stops me.

…_but he's got nothing on Cedric Diggory. That boy is fit! I'd try and get with him if it wasn't for the fact that he's always hanging around with Skylar Clark. They're supposedly "just friends," but everyone thinks they're together. I mean, honestly – how can a bloke and a girl be friends for six years if there isn't some kind of attraction? I wonder if they're going to the ball together. Terrence just asked me today…_

I close the book. That's the deepest thing I've ever heard from Carla. And the worst part is that I know she's right. I am attracted to Cedric. He just doesn't feel the same way.

These thoughts force me to continue my search for alcohol with renewed vigor. I rifle through the items in her dresser, search her book bag – I even go through her pile of dirty laundry on the floor. At last, a stroke of inspiration comes to me and I look under her bed, the most obvious hiding place of all. And there they are: countless shiny red bottles, all holding the same promise: We can help you forget about Cedric. We can help you forget about everything. Just one taste and you'll forget!

I succumb to the temptation and grab one. Or two.

I sprawl across my bed and crack open the first. I take a long draught and feel it burn, feel it shake me up inside. They don't call it firewhisky for nothing.

I hover in a dreamy state of content. Contrary to the promise, I still think about Cedric. But when I do, it doesn't hurt. I only feel the buzz of the alcohol.

I think about his beautiful grey eyes. I think about his soft smile. I think about every little thing he does and I swear, I swear that guy's an angel.

It's starting to hurt again… I take another long sip. I'm on my third bottle. I don't think I've ever drunk this much at once. I feel myself slip past the point of no return.

Something inside me wakes up. The part of Skylar that nobody knows; the part that wears leather and talks dirty. I swing my legs over the side of the mattress and start to take off my robes. I'm going to put on this dress, I tell myself.

I'm going to the Yule Ball and I'm going to have a good time doing it.


	10. Baby's Black Balloon Makes Her Fly

_Stevie: So cheapxperfume wrote the song in today's chapter._ **A/N: When I make a CD and become superfamous, you can all get free albums. **_Stevie: Like that'll ever happen._ **A/N: OK, so maybe it won't. But maybe it's more likely to get some nice lovely reviews on this chapter. :)**

The thing that makes firewhisky so great (aside from the fiery buzz) is that it heightens your senses immeasurably. After three bottles, I can feel everything. I can feel the stares I get when I saunter casually into the Great Hall. I can feel the lust from the males and the worry from the girls. I'm not used to being noticed, but I like how it feels.

I'm an hour late, and they've been done with the classical music for a while now. Turns out Dumbledore booked the Weird Sisters, and they're playing one of their more fast-paced songs at the moment. I flash a wink at wide-eyed Ernie MacMillan and walk over to the punch bowl, searching for someone to dance with.

And that's when I first see him. Cedric. He's out there, partying hard with Cho. I catch his eye and his jaw drops. I don't think he's ever seen me in a dress.

I spin around once, just to show off, then break our gaze and continue my search. My eyes have just landed on a particularly fine-looking Gryffindor when someone taps me on the shoulder. "Would you like to dance?"

I spin around. It's Marcus Flint. I glance over at Cedric again. Maybe this could work in my favor…

Before I know it, we're out on the dance floor. Neon lights are flashing all around us. Hard blue lights up Flint's eyes as a loud red plays across my black dress. He's sweating and so am I. This is pretty intense for my first dance, no?

I lost Cedric some time ago. Probably went off with Chang to snog, but I'm trying not to care. I focus on the lyrics to the Weird Sisters song and that unbreakable blue that works its way across Flint's features.

_You're my addiction_

_My religion_

_The reason that I'm livin'_

_I needed you like a cigarette_

_Ever since the day we met_

_And I still don't have enough yet_

The song pulses through my veins until I can't feel myself anymore. Like I've become part of the song. Like I'm just a single chord in an endless guitar riff…

I curse. I really am drunk. I need to clear my head.

I start to walk toward one of the exits, but Flint runs up behind me.

"I need some air."

"I'll come too."

Outside, the music is but a memory and I can breathe properly again. Inhale, exhale. The oxygen has a faintly clean taste as I swallow it in gasps. Flint wipes his hand over his forehead.

"Some party."

"No kidding." I take another deep breath and examine my surroundings. Just as I suspected, there are a lot of couples out here. I recognize Fleur Delacour with some Ravenclaw Quidditch bloke – they're snogging. It's slightly uncomfortable, standing here with Flint, listening to some couple making loud kissing noises. I start to walk further along the path. He follows me.

"Listen, Skylar… I'm sorry I'm always being such an arse in Potions all the time. I think you're actually pretty cool away from classes. Why don't you hang out with us Slytherins some time?"

I'm about to answer, but that's when I see them. From behind, it's just another couple: a boy with golden-brown hair and a girl in some sort of traditional Chinese dress. Then the girl shifts her head, and I realize that it's Cho. And Cedric. Snogging.

I'm definitely not drunk anymore. I can feel the pain again, throbbing through every atom of my being. I whirl away from the sight, but it's burned into my eyelids. Now I'll see them every time I close my eyes.

I take another moment to breathe. Flint looks concerned. "Did you hear me? Skylar?"

"What? Oh… yeah, sure. I'll try and hang out with you guys more, I guess," I say breathlessly. "Let's get out of here."

We walk back into the Great Hall, and I down one or two more bottles of firewhisky. It's enough. The buzz is back and the hurt is gone. It's just the neon and Flint and me and the music.

The Yule Ball ends at midnight. The hard partiers have to be kicked out – yes, that includes Flint and me. We end up staggering down the halls of the school, each carrying a half-drunk bottle of firewhisky. I don't say it out loud, but I'm kind of afraid to go back to the common room.

It's great, this feeling of not caring. We sing random bits of the Hogwarts anthem and scare first years that are wandering around in the dark. After a while, though, the alcohol takes its toll and I start to feel sick. Flint and I walk to the entrance to the common room.

"See ya, babe." He takes a swig of firewhisky and salutes me.

I'm just as drunk as he is. I tip my head in his direction and almost fall over. "Later," I croak.

I stumble into the common room and stare dizzily around. Five seconds later, I'm emptying my guts in a corner of the room. Five bottles of firewhisky is five times more than what I usually drink. My head aches and I feel like death.

Suddenly I feel a cool hand hold my straggly hair up out of my way. Another hand rubs my back until I'm done. I sink to my knees, completely exhausted.

It's Cedric. Who else? He kneels down beside me, looking seriously worried. "Skylar," he says. "You stink of alcohol. How much did you drink? Are you okay?"

I shove weakly at him. Even if I wasn't completely drunk, I wouldn't be able to move him. So of course he doesn't budge now. "Go away," I groan. "Weren't you busy enough snogging the daylights out of Chang?"

He pulls away, stung by my harsh tone. "Skylar," he says again, more firmly this time. "You're beyond drunk. I don't think you can even get up the stairs."

"Yes I can." I stumble to my feet, resisting his attempts to help me, and move toward the stairs. I manage to make it all the way to the bottom one, but then, being the drunken fool that I am, I trip over air and hit my head on something. Hard.

For a moment I see the neon again, then Cedric's face in photo negative, leaning over me. Then the neon takes over and everything else fades away.

x x x

I wake up hours later on the common room couch with hopelessly tangled hair and a massive hangover. The bump on my head probably doesn't help either. I massage my temples, moaning overdramatically. A few third years doing homework turn around and stare at me. I stick out my tongue in a very mature manner and glance around.

Cedric's nowhere to be seen. However, he appears to have left something for me. A note.

I pick it up off the table.

_Skylar,_ it reads. _You had me really worried last night. I'm serious. Don't do that to me again. I saw you hanging around with Flint at the dance, by the way, and I don't know if that's such a good idea either –_

"Don't tell me what to do, you obsessive Cho-snogging prat!" I scream at the paper. The third years give me another look. "Bite me," I growl. Hangovers don't make me a particularly cheerful person. And I'm not that cheerful to begin with.

_But anyway. I had to go meet up with Cho, but I left you a hangover potion. My mum used to use them. Oh, and your Christmas present. I know, I'm late, sorry! Thanks for the chocolate frogs, by the way. I really appreciate the empty wrapper you forgot to take out of the box, too._

I bite my lip. I'd only had one!

_So, feel better soon. I'll talk to you later. – Cedric._

That's when I notice the little box and the bottle on the table. I down the contents of the bottle in a single swallow, and instantly a soothing rush calms the pain in my head. Now in a significantly better mood, I proceed on to the neatly wrapped box.

Seconds later, the wrapping paper's in a heap on the floor and I'm wondering if Cedric thinks of everything. At least now I can check one thing off my To Do List.

He gave me the Weird Sisters record.

Title: Over You.

A little too ironic. Because I've just fallen even more in love with that terrible, amazing, wonderful, heartbreaking enigma of an angel.


	11. A Thousand Other Boys

_Stevie: When I asked her how to introduce this chapter, cheapxperfume would only say, "And so it begins." I guess I can't really say much else… And so it begins?_ **A/N: That's the spirit, Stevie!**

After that one night, Cedric hardly talks to me again. He's with Cho constantly now; I see them together in hallways, classes, everything. It rips me apart inside, but I'm pretending not to care.

See, I took Flint up on his offer, and this morning I'm sitting at the Slytherin table with him at breakfast. He doesn't seem surprised to see, but the others are.

"What are you doing here, Hufflepuff?" one of Flint's blonde buddies hisses at me across the table as I awkwardly take a seat.

"She's sitting with us, what does it look like?" Flint responds sharply before I can open my mouth. "Back off, Lance, and get used to it."

Lance rolls his eyes and turns to a lady friend. I flash Flint a grateful smile, which feels odd on my face. Never in a thousand years would I have directed this smile at Flint, but here he is returning it. And here I am at the Slytherin table.

I cast a quick glance at Ravenclaw, where Cedric is sitting with Cho and her friends. I think he feels my eyes on him, because he turns around and looks at me. For a moment blue grey burns into emerald green, and then I look away. I take a long swig of pumpkin juice and wish for a bottle of firewhisky with a sigh.

I guess time does change everything, after all.

x x x

Classes go on as normal after the Christmas holidays. Well, maybe I shouldn't say normal, because of the whole Cedric issue.

Ironically enough, I sit with Flint in Potions now. He's still hopelessly clueless, but since we're on speaking terms now, I actually try to help him. Focusing on the task of keeping both of us from blowing up takes my mind off a certain bronze-haired boy working a few desks away from me, anyway. The Permanent Potion is one complicated piece of work.

I'm adding an extra helping of dried lacewing flies to the cauldron when Flint leans over and whispers in my ear, "I got a new shipment today. Meet me and the guys in the deserted classroom on the dungeon floor at ten o'clock and we'll share."

Ah, here's the real reason for hanging around with Flint. Even if his company is becoming slightly more bearable, there's still the plus that made me his acquaintance in the first place. The one thing we have in common.

A thirst for alcohol.

According to Flint, he's got a few pals working over at the Hog's Head. It's a dodgy place to begin with, so it's sort of expected that they'll be smuggling things out to underage Hogwarts students, being so close in Hogsmeade and all. They're the main source out of Flint's "many" suppliers. I think he just tries to impress people by saying "many," actually.

At ten o'clock, I'm there. I have homework, but I couldn't care less. I haven't properly done homework since before break. Hanging around with Slytherins means no Cedric and no Ravenclaws. No Cedric and no Ravenclaws means no doing homework or getting good grades.

It's worth it, though.

Flint digs through an old, beat-up crate and lugs out a few of those shiny red bottles, passing them around. It's him, me, and four other guys – Lance, Ashby, Trent, and Crane. Six altogether. Six shiny bottles.

I take a deep draught from the bottle and the buzz settles in my brain, pushing thoughts of my Transfiguration essay and Cedric out of it. I grin contentedly.

Flint and the guys start talking about guy things, like girls… well, just the body parts on the girls, actually. Pansy Parkinson is a popular topic, I notice. Even though she's three years younger and apparently Draco Malfoy's girl. I guess she gets around. In the Romilda Vane kind of way.

I take another drink and walk a few paces away from their loud conversing. The buzz drowns out all the other thoughts in my head and I feel like I can breathe for the first time in weeks. I swear, this stuff gets better every time you drink it.

As I take another swig, Patrick Ashby separates himself from the group and walks over to me. An Irish bloke with bright red hair and a knack for trouble, not to mention one too many growth spurts, he towers over me. Superior in every way, and he knows it.

"So," he says, "I hear you're Flint's new pet."

I grimace inwardly at the term but say nothing, choosing instead to gulp more firewhisky.

"You know, you'd be much better off with someone like me," Ashby says, taking another drink. "Obviously you didn't hear what Flint did to Pans—"

"Ashby," Flint says sharply, cutting off the redhead's slurred speech. "How many bottles have you had? Are you drunk?"

"Haha, nooo, you silly lad." Ashby staggers into me, his empty bottle clunking against my own, calling his bluff.

"Come on, mates, we should probably wrap it up," Flint says with a sigh. "Ashby's out of it and we don't want him getting caught; he'll lead them straight to us."

I don't ask who "them" is. With Slytherins, you learn not to ask questions. You just do what they tell you and hope their rich parents don't come after you in your sleep.

This is why I'm stuck with the task of dragging Ashby's passed out drunk body all the way to the Slytherin common room entrance. I've hung around with them, but I'm not one of them.

Not yet, anyway.

x x x

Three days pass since that first drink we shared, and I'm already falling into the pattern of the Slytherin ways. Drink a lot, party hard, neglect homework, talk about your friends behind their backs, etc. I feel like I should sew that green and silver patch onto my Hufflepuff robes or something.

Surprisingly enough, Flint is significantly less of an arse now. On the occasion that we actually do our homework, he's willing to share his answers (which he probably bullied out of a Ravenclaw anyway, but it's the thought that counts). If he's got a new shipment, I'm always the first to know. And there's another one of those tonight.

It's always the same four guys that he invites. The only ones he really trusts not to snitch because they're in just as deep as he is. And I'm just there because Flint dragged me in too. Anything to escape Cedric, I suppose. Even if it's just for a few hours.

We're sitting in a circle. Trent. Flint. Me. Ashby. Lance. Crane. It's another rousing game of Truth or Dare. AKA, the guys' way of finding out who's slept with who.

"Bulstrode," Ashby shoots across the circle. Trent's face contorts.

"_Millicent_ Bulstrode? Fourth year? Are you serious?" Trent pretends to gag. "No bloody way."

Lance shrugs as he passes me another bottle, seeing mine is empty. "I heard she was Crabbe's first. Obviously he had to get her stone drunk, but…"

We laugh collectively. I'm too drunk to realize it's not that funny, and that no one on the face of the earth should ever see Vincent Crabbe in starkers.

It's Flint's turn to ask someone. Me, unfortunately. "Skylar," he says, choking slightly on a gulp of firewhisky before continuing. "Who was your first?

"Uhh…" I don't want to tell this group of (very) sexually active young men the truth. "Well, it was… ah…"

"Don't be daft, Flint, she's a virgin. Aren't you, Skylar?" Crane says with a wink at me.

It's my turn to choke. These guys are too smart for their own good. Even when they're drunk. "I…"

"It's okay, Skylar, you don't have to ask. I'm ready to go, anytime, anywhere." Ashby says with a very, very wrong tone of voice. The kind that I shouldn't be hearing right now. A serious one.

There are a few chuckles from the guys, but I'm starting to get a little nervous. I change the subject fast. "Flint," I throw out. "Hermione Granger. Another fourth year. Mudblood. I'm pretty sure I saw you and her together in the locker rooms after a Quidditch game last year. What say you?"

As Flint protests these untrue accusations indignantly, everyone pokes more fun and dirty Mudblood cracks at him in between swigs of alcohol. And I let a sigh of relief escape me, because I've managed to get the spotlight off me and my apparent flaw.

The truth is, I've only tackled this subject with one other person. Not my mum. Not my dad. Too awkward for them. No, I learned about the birds and the bees from Cedric Diggory. And this conversation is bringing back a lot of memories, both good and bad…

I don't remember falling asleep, but when I wake up I'm scared out of my mind.


	12. That Hole In Your Life

_Stevie: So cheapxperfume is being all dramatic and stuff because Black Balloon is officially her most reviewed story._ **A/N: Yeah, it is. And yeah, I am. And yeah, I thank you all. I was going to throw in a few shout-outs, but then I realized I'd just end up listing everyone who's every reviewed, because I love you all so much. And –** _Stevie: Um, before things get too sentimental, how about we give them the chapter?_ **A/N: Yeah… yeah, you're right. Sniff. OK, here you go…**

I take a deep breath and try to recognize my surroundings. Okay, I'm still in the same deserted classroom. Dusty tables, overturned chairs, torn maps and posters. Yes, the same room. But then why do I hear breathing?

That's when I realize my pillow is alive. I let out a bloodcurdling screams that goes for a good fifteen seconds before my pillow claps a hand over my mouth.

"Merlin, Skylar, put a sock in it!" my pillow moans, stretching. That's when I realize I've been sleeping halfway in Flint's lap. I jerk away from him, nearly toppling onto someone else in the process. Ashby is sprawled out next to me, still dead asleep. My scream woke up Trent and Lance, who are tiredly pulling themselves into sitting positions.

"I have such a hangover," Crane moans into his hands.

My head feels like a thousand pounds. Thank God we don't have classes today – I love Saturdays.

"Someone should wake up Ashby," Lance mumbles.

I pound the floor by his head. No response. I get down on the floor beside him and yell his name in his face, followed by a few well-chosen expletives. That works a little better. Ashby cracks one eye open and glares at me.

"Head. Ache," he says. The eye closes.

I drag him upright. "Come on, we have to get out of here before someone finds us," I say, directing this at the rest of the guys as well.

Flint runs a hand through his hair. "Someone transfigure these bottles into miniature globes or something so we can hide the evidence," he says with a yawn, one hand supporting his head. Good thinking for a guy with a massive hangover.

Trent does it messily. On one of them, Europe's made of red glass. Another is abnormally shiny. But I give him credit since we're all still half asleep. Nobody comes here anymore, anyway.

We troop out gradually and go our separate ways. What we came to do is done. Because the truth is, when the sun rises and the bottles are drained, we've got nothing in common anymore. Except the hangovers and the knowledge that we'll meet again soon.

x x x

There's another Hogsmeade trip in January. Cedric goes with his friends and I go with… mine. I'm listening to Flint and Crane's rowdy conversation when I feel someone brush past me. There's a blur of yellow and black robes, a flash of blue-grey eyes, and the back of a very familiar bronze-haired head. I feel my gloved hands clench inside my pockets as Cho struts next to him, gripping his arm and snogging his cheek every five seconds. It makes me want to be sick.

But he looked back, didn't he? Does that mean he hasn't forgotten?

No, of course it doesn't mean anything. I'm just overanalyzing, as usual. I don't care what Cedric thinks of me, anyway.

I hear Ashby mutter something to Trent about Professor Binns being a prat and I jump in, because a) I know what they're talking about now, and b) I need to take my mind off those stupid stupid memories.

My group and I spend most of the Hogsmeade trip wandering around the Shrieking Shack…never too close, of course. But close enough to make us all a little edgy. After a while I get tired of Ashby's scary stories, so I pelt a snowball into his back and start an all-out war. Snow flies through the air, thick and fast, as teams form and dignity is forgotten. I get hit a few times, once in the face and once in the chest, which Ashby was overly enthusiastic about for some reason. But it all ends (for me, anyway) when I throw a snowball and I accidentally hit… well, who else? Cedric Diggory.

I don't know why Cho wanted to see the Shrieking Shack. Maybe to get Cedric away from her Ravenclaw drones. Or maybe she thought an old haunted house would make for a really romantic background. All I know is that Cedric is there and I hit him smack in the head with a cold, wet, hard snowball.

In a different lifetime, he might have packed together a snowball of his own and thrown it back for all he was worth; a smile lighting up his face. But times have changed. That was then; this is now. As the ice falls away he gives me a look colder than the snow. I think I actually shiver inside my winter coat. Cho brushes the excess crystals out of his hair, cooing at him and throwing me one of her serial killer looks. But Cedric's expression is burned into my memory.

I drop the other snowball and run away from Flint and Crane and Ashby and everyone else. I just can't stop thinking of the look on Cedric's face; a mere glance that speaks volumes more than anything he could ever say.

I don't want to think about what that expression said.

I stop at a fringe of trees and just focus on my breathing for a few heartbreaking moments. Then I hear footsteps. Someone running after me.

Of course it's not Cedric. That's the last person it would be. But I can't help it when Flint appears and my hopes fall the tiniest bit.

"Why'd you leave? It was just getting good."

"I hit him… I didn't mean to…"

"Who, Diggory?" Flint gives me a calculating look. "You two used to be really close, didn't you?"

It's not a question. He and I both know the answer. But Flint could ask me a thousand questions and he'd never understand me like Cedric did.

He moves a bit closer, shuffling his feet in fifty-Galleon boots. Typical Slytherin. "What happened?"

_Cho happened,_ I want to scream at him. _You happened. The Yule Ball happened. Everything happened. Anything happened. Everything that could've gone wrong went wrong. And now look where we are._

But I don't say a word. I just stand there and stare off into the distance at absolutely nothing. And for some reason, Flint stands and stares with me.

When Ashby and the others find us, we look identical. Two statues of ice, standing in the ice. Except I'm the one with tears frozen on my face.

x x x

By the time we get back to Hogwarts, it's late. Flint got a new shipment and that's the only thing I want right now. I want to forget the whole Cedric incident ever happened. I want to forget that a bloke named Cedric Diggory even exists.

I'm the first person there besides Flint. He cracks open the crate and I grab a bottle so violently that the whole lot nearly crashes to the floor.

Flint curses. "Watch it, Clark!" He regards me suspiciously. "Merlin, what's wrong with you?!"

I glare at him and turn away, downing half the bottle in a single breath. I can feel his eyes on my back, trying to figure me out just like everyone else does. But I don't turn around. He'll just have to find out who I am on his own, because I don't even know that right now.

The rest of the group trickles in and the conversation gets louder with every bottle, but I don't join them. I sit in the corner of the room with my knees bent at a weird angle and my third bottle grasped weakly in my left hand.

I watch as Ashby says something funny about Dumbledore and everyone laughs. I take another swig and wonder what's happened to me. These guys, high on testosterone and alcohol nearly 24/7, are the only ones I've got. I started off the year best friends with seventh-year Quidditch captain Cedric Diggory. Something went wrong. Now I'm stuck here, wasting away with five blokes who don't know the first thing about me. All they know is that they like alcohol, I like alcohol, and that's enough.

But it's not enough for me. I don't want acquaintances; I want a companion. Someone I can trust with everything. Someone who won't laugh at me when I screw up. Someone who's there for me whenever I need them. Someone who's always there to help me, even if I don't want their help.

You know what the worst part is?

That someone was Cedric Diggory. And I let him slip right through my fingers.


	13. The Lies They Always Told You

_Stevie: Well, nothing like some good old Hogwartian drama. Or so I'm told._ **A/N: Yup, this chapter's got plenty of that. Enjoy. :)**

This time I manage to wake up before everyone else. Sometime during the night I got drunk enough to join the "partying." At least, that's the only explanation for the fact that I'm no longer in my lonely corner, my shirt is half unbuttoned and Ashby's legs are currently slung over mine. Trent's fingers are just touching my arm. I slide them off, shuddering subconsciously, and ease myself out from beneath Ashby.

I stand up quietly, trying not to wake the others. And that's when I catch a glimpse of myself in a cracked mirror, hanging forgotten on the wall. I look like a complete disaster. My straggly hair hangs limply around my pale face like some sort of ironic picture frame. Day-old mascara is smeared around my eyes.

But it's not just those things. I look… older, somehow. More worn. There are wrinkles on my face that I didn't notice before. My hand instinctively reaches up to trace the lines. The green of my eyes is somehow darker and sharply contrasts the bruise-colored shadows beneath them. My fingers follow the curve of those, too.

I turn away, disgusted. What I need is about an hour away from the guys. An hour involving a nice, hot bath and just being alone with my thoughts.

They're all still out cold when I creep out of the room a minute later. I walk through a couple of hallways and up a few staircases, shivering in the early morning chill, until I find what I'm looking for: the statue of Boris the Bewildered.

Sneaking into the prefects' bathroom isn't a big deal to me. I've done it countless times before, and it's usually empty. It's about three in the morning right now, so I don't think this time around is going to be any different. I only hope I don't come across anybody snogging, like I did with Penelope Clearwater and Percy Weasley last year. That was a scar-your-life type of incident.

But anyway, I whisper "Pine fresh," and the door magically opens. Don't know what else you'd expect in Hogwarts.

I take a few tentative steps inside, and then I realize I'm not alone. For the second time in two days, I've unknowingly stumbled upon Cedric. Except this time, he's in the bathtub.

He yelps and I let out a small scream. "Merlin, Skylar, what the bloody hell are you doing here? It's three in the morning!"

"I could ask you the same thing," I say, narrowing my eyes. I don't know why he's so paranoid. The bubbles are probably two or three feet deep, and they're covering him like a blanket.

"I'm here to… take a bath, what does it look like?" he says. I notice that he just hid something golden behind his back, but I don't really care what it is. He looks up at me indignantly as the water splashes softly against his chest and neck, dampening the tips of his hair ever so slightly. I swallow and try to focus.

"Well, I'm here to shower. Sorry to have interrupted you."

I start to walk towards the shower room, but something stops me. His eyes on my back.

"Skylar, wait..."

I turn around, slowly.

He looks at me for a moment, opening his mouth as though he'd like to say something. But then he averts his eyes; turns away. "Never mind."

I bite my lip and stare hard at him for thirty seconds. A burning sensation builds in my throat and behind my eyes until it gets to be too much. I spin on my heel and stalk out of the room.

In ten minutes, I'm a whole room away from him and I can breathe clearly again. I turn on the water to boiling and step under the showerhead, hoping to wash away the memory of Cedric's eyes. And the rest of him.

I just stand there for forty-five minutes, letting the water pelt my body like rain. I think of Cedric and Flint and Cho and Ashby and this crazy thing called life. And I feel so alone.

After awhile, I can't tell if it's the shower or my tears.

x x x

Flint doesn't get a new shipment for awhile, but we hang out anyway. It's not like I've got any other friends to turn to right now.

And it's at this time that the rumors start. Or at least, this is when I start to hear them. For all I know, these could've been going on a lot longer.

When I'm with Flint and Ashby and the rest of them, I'm someone. But when I'm around everyone else: classmates, ghosts, even teachers – I'm someone talked about.

Example? Okay. I'm walking behind a giggly fifth year duo of Gryffindors, trying to get to class. I'm about to stroll pass them, but then I hear my name mentioned and stay put, feebly attempting to eavesdrop.

"So, Skylar?" one of them's saying. "What happened to her and Cedric?"

"I heard he got tired of her," another responds. "Decided Cho was better."

Better at what? Quidditch? I could sure as bloody hell kick Cho's arse in a Quidditch game any day of the week… oh, wait. That's not what they mean, is it?

"She managed to snag Marcus Flint," the first one says.

"She just jumps from one Quidditch captain to the other, doesn't she?" The other shakes her head.

I'm almost shaking with anger. But then the first girl says the worst thing of all.

"How many times do you think she slept with Flint and his friends to let her be seen with them in public?"

I explode. Both figuratively and literally. I'm pretty sure there's smoke coming out of my ears, in the least.

"CONFRINGO!!" I scream. The Blasting Curse – I'm definitely not thinking rationally. There's a large explosion in the wall about three inches away from the first girl, who shrieks loudly and pulls out her own wand, turning on me.

"Ex… Expell… Expelliarm –"

"Furnunculus!" This time the curse hits her; disgusting boils start to sprout all over her exposed skin, getting bigger by the second. Her friend screeches out a swear word and runs for a teacher. I raise my wand again, past all sanity and reason.

"Lev… Cru…" I flounder for another good curse, and that moment costs me. Suddenly someone's pulling my arms down, bringing them behind my back, taking my wand, trying to drag me away…

"No, stop it, stop…" I say vaguely, trying to fight my way out of my captor's arms.

"You have to come with me or you're going to get in trouble, Skylar."

I recognize Flint's voice and relax a little. Wherever he's taking me, I know it won't be the headmaster's office. Flint's hexed a few of the wrong people in his time, too.

He leads me into the deserted classroom, which has pretty much become our hideout over the past… how long has it been? Weeks? Months? Years? I jerk away from him and sit down, looking pointedly to the right. He sits across from me and tries to get me to meet his eyes.

"Skylar, you can't just lose control like that, do you hear me? You could get kicked out of Hogwarts for some of the things you were going to say. Just Furnunculus is bad enough."

I'm still not looking at him. I stare down at the holey carpet in between us and try to count the individual particles of dust as the wind whistles outside.

"Skylar, come off it," he pleads with me. "You've got to listen to –"

"Did you know?" I ask, not looking at him.

He's caught off guard. "Know about what?"

"The rumors, Flint." Embarrassingly enough, I'm fighting tears now. I blink them away, hating how weak I am.

"What rumors?" Either he's playing dumb or he really doesn't know.

"About me sleeping with you and the rest of the bloody male population!" I yell at him. I finally look up, the anger fading a bit as I see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Skylar, I'm sorry, I didn't know…"

I sniff and pick a dust bunny off the carpet. "Of course you didn't."

"Look, forget them, okay? Just… don't freak out like that. It'll get us all in trouble."

I stand up so fast I nearly fall over. "Oh, I should've known this was all about you," I say sharply. "Always looking out for yourself before anyone else, aren't you, Flint? Ever thought that people might be falling apart around you while you're standing there trying to protect your own arse?"

Still not thinking rationally, I know. But I'm really shaken up and Flint was helping right up until that last phrase. He gapes at me, speechless. I turn and walk out…

Forever? Or will I come crawling back?


	14. Spin Beneath You

**A/N: Hey guys, it's… oh, nevermind. Stevie is totally diving for the keyboard. **_Stevie: Ahem, sorry about that. cheapxperfume apparently forgot introducing the chapter is supposed to be MY job. Though I don't really have much to say. So… enjoy the continuing drama. And a cliffhanger, apparently._

The whole Avoiding Flint & Company Scenario lasts about a day. I definitely had the willpower to go on longer, it's just… he got a double shipment. He passes me a note in Potions: _Skylar, I'm sorry. Meet me and the others tonight at eleven. Usual spot. Twice as much you-know-what._

So of course I show up. Early.

It's the night before the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. We all take turns toasting bottles of firewhisky to Viktor Krum, in hopes that he'll win. After all, none of the Slytherins like Harry Potter very much, and they all know I have a history with Cedric Diggory. They're not the tactless dunderheads everyone makes them out to be, after all.

If Flint told them about my little outburst, he also told them to keep their mouths shut, because nobody makes a crack about me being a slut. In fact, they're actually nicer to me than ever. I'm actually almost starting to feel accepted.

In fact, while Ashby's telling a particularly stupid joke about a hag walking into a bar, I happen to look over at Flint. He's sitting against the wall, with one leg stretched out in front of him and the other bent up. His dark hair moves the shadows across his face as he laughs at Ashby's punch line, and then he sees me watching him. He grins ever so slightly, then raises the bottle in my direction before taking another sip. He's toasting to me.

It's a strange sight, a Hufflepuff fitting in with five Slytherins. But after Cedric, nothing's ever felt so good.

x x x

The second task finally comes the next day. I arrive late (the less I see of Cedric, the better), but Flint motions me over to where he and the rest are sitting in the stands. I manage to squeeze in between Flint and Ashby, just in time to see the four champions dive into the water. One in neon Hufflepuff yellow that makes me shiver and avert my eyes.

Flint feels the tremor pass through my body. "Are you cold?"

I am a bit, but I shake my head. It's February. Nothing I didn't expect. It wasn't the cold that made me shiver, but I can't explain that to Flint…

Flint, however, ignores this and removes his outer cloak, draping it around my shoulders. Instantly I'm enveloped in seventy-degree heat. I smile at him, whisper "Thank you," and return to watching the Tournament.

Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see Ashby frown, but I can't be too sure.

Anyway, the task ends up being pretty interesting. Turns out that the egg gave the champions some sort of message, because they all seem to know what they're doing. They have exactly an hour to "recover what has been taken from them," in Ludo Bagman's words. I'm guessing it's something like their most prized possession, but anyway we have an hour to kill now. Flint starts talking to me about some Potions essay that neither of us has started yet and Ashby eventually joins in. The other three ditch to go flirt with some other seventh-year Slytherins: pretty girls with rich daddies. I still don't see why Ashby and Flint would rather be here.

About twenty minutes into the task, I hear someone scream very loudly. Like, ear-drum-exploding kind of loud. Everything near the water is thrown into chaos as a few people pull someone onto the shore. I lean forward in spite of myself, trying to get a better view.

"Something happened to Delacour," I hear Flint murmur beside me.

The confusion continues for a few more seconds, then there's a muttered _Sonorus!_ and suddenly Bagman's voice is louder than everything else.

"There's been a bit of a – mishap," he says calmly. "Miss Delacour will be unable to compete in the rest of the task."

"It's the grindylows," Ashby says, leaning back. "The grindylows got to her."

I raise an eyebrow in surprise. "And since when have you been an expert on the Black Lake?"

"I went skinny dipping there once, with a… lady friend." He winks at Flint. "Let's just say we encountered a bit of a problem."

I don't know whether to laugh or shake my head, so I do both. Talk turns to a debate between Flint and Ashby about whether or not Delacour has veela blood in her, and from there they argue about the ugliest girl in the year, which sparks a heated discussion about…

I lose track of time. Before I know it, there's a ruckus down by the shore again. I squint and see a bronze head pop above the surface. I look away, but it's too late… his most prized possession is floating there beside him, in the form of none other than Cho.

Cho bloody Chang.

I don't realize how hard I'm gripping Flint's arm until he winces and mutters a curse under his breath. "Skylar…"

"S-sorry," I mutter, dropping his hand and digging my fingers into my own palms instead. I know this shouldn't bother me, but I can't help the fact that I care. I can't help the fact that Cho's the one he's tenderly wrapping a towel around and kissing on the forehead when I know, in another time – another world – that could have been me.

Ashby's just a part of the mindless mass of cheering, but he wasn't the one who nearly got his arm ripped off. I can feel Flint's eyes on me, gauging my reaction to this latest development in the Cho/Cedric relationship.

I bury my face in my hands, and whisper only loud enough for him to hear. "Do you think they've shagged yet?"

He sighs, then reaches out, unsure, and puts his hand on my knee. "It'll be okay, Skylar."

I look up into his eyes, and at that moment, it hits me hard. His eyes are grey. Grey-blue. Like Cedric's.

"I can't take this anymore," I choke. I jump off, rip Flint's cloak from my shoulders and hurl it at his feet (actually, I miss and cover the head of the person in front of him, but I retain my dignity).

I run from the stands, charging down the stairs as fast as I can in an effort to get away. I think I might hear someone behind me, yelling my name, but Viktor Krum has just surfaced with Hermione Granger; everyone's on their feet screaming and I am lost in the crowd, just like I'm lost in myself…

I don't even know where I'm going. Once I'm out of the stands, my feet hit solid ground and I'm running all out. It's easier to spot me now, the only one not in the stands, the misplaced Slytherpuff with my yellow and black robes streaming out behind me.

Whoever was following me obviously got held up in the crowd, because my own name stops ringing in my ears and I step inside the deserted castle untouched.

The place is literally empty. (Unless you count portraits – even the ghosts went to hover, watching the task from a distance.) I've got half a mind to run around screaming, just to say I did. And just to get rid of all this pent-up emotion inside me.

I scream. Just once. It's a lonely sound: it reverberates off the huge walls and ceiling, coming back to me in an endless cycle until it at last fades into nothingness.

The emptiness is starting to creep me out. I've just realized something – I don't like being alone. I vault up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, until I'm on the right floor. I run through the familiar hallways until I reach the abandoned classroom at last. I walk slowly to the corner of the room, by the broken window, and sit down, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

Just for today, "our" hideout will be "my" hideout. Just for today.

x x x

After a couple hours, I'm basically numb from the cold seeping through the window, and my mind is blank. I faintly hear people start to trickle in, chatting about the second task and homework they have to finish. I strain my ears for any hurried footsteps coming this way, but there aren't any.

I'm not sure whether to be glad or disappointed.

It's later that someone finds me. As in hours later. And as that person walks in, I realize that it wasn't Flint calling my name as I ran away. It wasn't him at all.

"Hey, princess, where ya been?" Ashby says as he walks in. And then he shuts the door behind him.


	15. Swallowed The Light From The Sun

_Stevie: So the beginning of this chapter made me go blaaaaargh. And I think you'll agree with me. Why does cheapxperfume write things of such tormenting nature?_ **A/N: It's all part of the drama, Stevie. All part of the drama. (Just in case anyone's worried, everything stays in the PG-PG13 department. So, kiddies, you're safe.)** _Stevie: Riiiiight._

I suck my breath in as Ashby fiddles with the lock for a minute longer. A click meets our ears and he smirks, satisfied. And then he turns to face me.

I inch up the wall slowly; sliding my hands against it as though there'll be a hidden panel I can slip through. Unfortunately, my extensive knowledge of Hogwarts' secret passageways doesn't do me much good when I'm trapped in a corner.

I haven't had to say this since I was five years old, but… I'm scared.

He steps closer to me… another step. He takes the room in a few long strides. He's close enough now that I can smell the alcohol on his breath. No wonder he called me 'princess.'

I can feel the partially rotted wooden wall hard against my back. It's reminding me that I have nowhere to run. I swallow hard as Ashby leans in close.

"I've been watching you," he whispers, the firewhisky lacing his words together.

My body tenses as Ashby brings a hand up to my shoulder and runs it down along my arm. He grabs my hand and pulls me up against him as I try to jerk away.

"What're you so afraid of, Clark?" he says. "I know you want me."

He forces his lips on mine. I pull my hand free of his clutch and slap him as hard as I can.

He releases me in surprise, tracing the red handprint that's forming fast on his cheek. I take advantage of the oxygen and gasp for air.

"Oh, you'll pay for that!" he snarls. He reaches out for me again, but I hurdle to the left at the last possible second and he smashes into the wall. Growling, he turns on the spot and pins me against the other wall before I can even move, one hand grabbing both my wrists and shoving them up over my head.

I scream the first name that comes to my mind. "CED –" He puts his free hand messily over my mouth for a second. Angry tears fill my eyes as I try to jerk unsuccessfully out of his grasp. Even drunk, he's stronger than I am.

"You make one sound and you're in more trouble than you are now," he hisses. He takes the hand off my mouth, satisfied with the point he's made, and snatches at my shirt. One of the buttons pops off and I scream in spite of myself.

He glares up at me. "I'm serious, Clark!"

I bite my lip as he works off the rest of the buttons and grips at my skirt. I get a burst of courage from nowhere and lash out; he times the pull wrong and the skirt only goes lopsided. My foot kicks him in the jaw and he's back on his elbows with a face the color of his crimson hair and a slowly swelling bruise.

"You don't give up, do you?!" he shouts at me. I run for the door but he grabs at my skirt again from his position on the ground and I go flying back down on my stomach with a significantly wider rip in my skirt.

He's crawling over to me when I hear footsteps outside. At this point I don't care who it is, but I have a pretty good guess.

"FLINT! FLINT, HELP! FLIN –"

Ashby clamps a hand over my mouth and moves up beside me, working at my tie. He's got a frenzied look in his eye that's beyond reason. I'm starting to wonder if anyone even heard me, at last giving in to the desperation…

That's when Flint bursts through the door.

"Skylar!" he shouts. Then, "ASHBY!"

Ashby looks up from my tie, caught in the act. He smiles a drunken, lopsided smile and says, "Oy, Flint, come to see the show?"

Flint punches him. I see the whole thing happen in slow motion: Flint's fist flashing out of nowhere, the impact, and Ashby reeling from the blow seconds later.

He balls up his own fingers. "You just started something serious, Flint."

Then, just like that, they're at it. Like they've been waiting to do this for a long time. I guess Ashby had it coming. He's just not that great at fighting drunk.

He lashes out at Flint, but Flint sees the blow coming years before it's near him and dodges it easily. He hits Ashby twice in rapid-fire succession, and they're both right on target. The third punch leaves Ashby with blood from his nose dripping obscenely into his mouth. He touches the tender flesh, then grimaces in pain and tries to strike Flint again.

It's his last mistake, and this time it costs him. Flint hits him right in the center of his face and just like that, he's out cold. A black eye starts to swell even as I look on, stunned.

That's when Flint finally turns his eyes on me. I'd venture to guess I look pathetic: disheveled hair, shirt hanging open, tie slung loosely around my neck, and skirt ripped halfway up my thigh. The angry tears are coming back. I can't look at him.

I stare at his feet as they take tentative steps toward me. He kneels down and gently tilts my chin up so I have no excuse for avoiding his eyes.

"Skylar," he says softly. "It's okay, he's out now, I'm here…"

That's when I start to cry. I bring one hand over my eyes, but he pulls it away and brings me into his arms and I just lie there and shake and convulse all over. I don't even think about the fact that Flint's there and my skirt's barely on and my shirt's halfway open and he's there looking at me watching me I just don't think I can't think I can't.

I don't know how long I sit there in his arms. But sooner or later Ashby starts to groan and Flint pulls me to my feet.

"We've got to go… Can you walk?"

"Yeah, but… my clothes…"

He pulls off his outer Slytherin robe and throws it at me. "Keep it closed."

I pull the green and silver on over my ruined blouse and throw him a grateful look. He puts his arm around my shoulders and for once, I don't resist.

But when we walk out of the deserted classroom, a few people spot us and begin to whisper. It's then that I realize what this must look like. Me, wearing Flint's robe. Messy hair. And Flint's arm around my shoulders.

I jerk away from him suddenly, angry. He looks at me with this heartbreaking, hurt look on his face. I can't stand it. I know he's not trying to make me seem like a slut. But this image is only backing up all the rumors.

I shake off his robe and throw it at him. "I'm going to my common room."

He just manages to catch the garment. "Uh, okay, I'll take you there – "

"No, Flint, don't you get it?! I just want to be alone right now!"

Flint takes an automatic step away from me, startled. "Oh… okay, sorry."

He gives me one last, long look and walks away, his robe slung over his arm.

Guilt slides across my body like slime. I shake off the remorse and remind myself of my scanty clothing. I fold my arms across my fatally damaged shirt, which works well enough, but there's not much I can do for my skirt. Or the fact that my hair makes me look like I just got shagged.

I hurry down the hallways as fast as I can. It's rather late, but there are still people walking around. And each person that passes by gives me a double take and starts to whisper to the person next to them.

I turn red and walk faster.

I reach the common room safely – or so I think. Because, as usual, my sigh of relief is too soon. It's not normal unless I run into the one person I'm trying the hardest to avoid.

Cedric's sitting on a couch directly across from the common room entrance, and at the moment he's taking in my clothing – or lack of it.

"Skylar?" he says. "What happened to you?"

"Like you care," I hiss. I start to head for the dormitory stairs, but Cedric stands up and grabs my wrist.

I stiffen. It's the first time he's touched me in… eternity. That's what it feels like, anyway. But before I lose myself in the feel of his skin on mine, I remind myself who the last person to seize my wrist was. And the mark he probably left behind.

I try to pull away, but it's all in vain. It's too late. He's seen the bruises.

"Skylar," he repeats softly. "Who did it?"

He tries to catch my other wrist, but I pull as hard as I can and manage to stumble back out of his grasp. I stare at him. He stares back. Why is he pretending to care?

"It doesn't matter!" I half-scream at him. "You're with Cho, why would you give a bloody rat's arse about me?"

His brow furrows. "Skylar, don't be thick, of course I care about you –"

"Only when I come into the common room covered in bruises though, right?" I scoff. "Look, Cedric, she's obviously more important to you. That stupid Tri-Wizard task proved it. It was her that you pulled to the surface of that lake, not me. So listen," I jump up a few stairs, dancing out of his reach. "Let's just go back to avoiding each other like before and… and…" I choke. "Just don't tell anyone about the bruises, Ced. Don't tell anybody."

With that, I slam the dormitory door shut just before he opens his mouth. I spin on my heel – thank God, no Carla. I run over to the floor-length mirror and examine the damage.

I look broken. Like someone took me and slammed me against a rock. I'm bruised, I'm battered, I'm hopeless, I'm lost. I'm a nightmare.

I stare at my reflection and those same old bloodshot green eyes stare back at me.

I have an epiphany: I hate myself.

_Smash._ My fist goes through the mirror. I watch the pieces fall and shatter around me as I sink to my knees and sob.

I was breaking for so long. Now I'm finally broken.


	16. Things They Never Showed You

_Stevie: What's in this chapter, you ask? Oh, you know… drama. The usual. _**A/N: Like they'd be expecting anything else by now…**

I wake up with scars on my knuckles. I vaguely remember healing the broken skin and collapsing into bed, suddenly more exhausted than I'd ever been in my life.

I can still feel the fatigue coiled in my gut like a snake. All the events of the previous night come rushing back to me, and I have an overwhelming urge to hide under the covers and go back to sleep. I don't know how I'll be able to face Ashby or Flint or Cedric… especially Cedric. I wonder if he heard me break that mirror?

I curse under my breath. The mirror. Carla's going to kill me. I crack one eye open and scan the room. Her bed is made, the glass is gone, and there's no angry Howler or killer owl awaiting me. I guess today's my lucky day.

x x x

I have classes with all three of the aforementioned blokes, but I talk to none of them. I sit alone in Potions, hoping to get some quality work done, but I'm so distracted by Ashby sitting right in front of me and throwing me creepy glances that I add too much aconite and completely destroy my experimental Wolfsbane Potion. This earns me one fat T.

I think Flint tries to catch up with me after class a few times, but I never give him the chance. I always walk a little faster than everyone else; hide myself in a cluster of giggly Ravenclaws… there are many ways to avoid someone when you're in a place like Hogwarts. If all else fails, I've got the secret passages.

Carla never mentions the mirror. She probably eavesdropped on my blowout fight with Cedric, because she's being really sympathetic towards me. (Sympathetic meaning not outright evil. There are subtler ways of being rude.) But hey, I take what I get.

I spend a week in isolation. It's a strange feeling, going to bed with all my homework done. Almost… productive. Strange. But I know it's not going to last. Your oldest habits are the hardest to kill. And my closet's too full of skeletons already to let my experience with Marcus Flint & Co. become another one of them.

I don't know how he knows. But he sends me a note, same as always, when he gets a new shipment. He knows without a doubt that I'll show up. Sad, really.

I'm a little more cautious when I step through the door this time. My eyes sweep the room and I notice that Ashby is missing. They pass over that unforgettable corner, the one by the window, and I shudder without meaning to. Better to stop thinking about the incident altogether, isn't it?

I take a seat under the cracked chalkboard instead and open a bottle. Trent, Lance, and Crane apparently have no idea what happened, because they're talking and laughing and joking, just the same as ever. They have no idea what's changed. It's like Ashby was never there at all.

Eerie.

I've been making it a point not to meet Flint's eyes, but accidents happen. I'm reaching into the crate for another firewhisky when a hand bumps into mine, knocking a bottle over and cracking it. I glance up into those grey eyes that are so like Cedric's, yet so different.

"I… I…" Stupid me. Stuttering is so eloquent, Skylar.

"It's okay," Flint says, and we both know he's talking about more than what just happened. He clears the mess with a quick spell and smiles at me. "Just… don't drink too much, okay?"

I nod, hesitantly returning the smile, before grabbing a new bottle and returning to my spot. I take a deep breath, open it, and tip the contents into my mouth, letting the cool liquid rush down my throat, through my veins, numbing my body. Dulling the pain.

It's good to be back.

x x x

March comes. Everything's exactly as it was before now, just without Ashby. He actually tries to talk to me once or twice. The nerve.

There's a Hogsmeade trip one windy Saturday, but we decide to hang around Hogwarts instead. It's just a village, after all. And the emptiness in the castle will give us some time to create serious havoc without getting caught, since most of the teachers are gone too.

We've been planning this for a while. There's a meeting held in our classroom before we go off our separate ways, and Lance doesn't hesitate to take charge.

He passes around a cardboard box full of black Magic Markers. Flint, who's sitting next to me, takes one. I take two.

"Trent, Crane, you go together. Flint, you go with Skylar. I'll go alone. You know what to do."

We stand up, nod solemnly, and start to walk out, but then he stops us. "Oh, wait, I forgot." Lance tosses each group a couple Dungbombs. "Just in case you hear Filch coming. Bloody hell, that bloke really should get out once in a while."

There's a collective snort of laughter and we're moving again. Flint and I have already agreed to take the seventh floor, which houses Gryffindor Tower.

This should be fun.

We get all the way up the stairs without coming across any authority figures. Flint walks over to the Fat Lady, Magic Marker held aloft like a sword.

Only one problem. She's awake.

A blood-curdling shriek sounds down the vacant hallway as our quiet footsteps are drowned by the noise. I clap my hands over my ears.

"Skylar! The markers!" Flint yells, panicking. I uncap both of mine and toss them over. He catches them by the inky ends, of course, but there's no time to dwell on that now. Quickly, he flips them around and begins what we came to do: defacement.

Unfortunately, the psychopath is still screaming. I don't know how her lungs can last this long. Once Flint starts to scribble all over her face in black marker, it only gets worse.

"We don't have time, Flint!" I shout over the noise as he starts to write _SLYTHERPUFF _across the Fat Lady's stomach. "We've got to get out of here!"

He sighs regretfully. We were going to put up some world-class graffiti and make sure the Gryffindors never forgot. Stupid painting.

He caps the markers and we take off running. Thirty seconds pass and I hear footsteps rapidly approaching. I freak out and toss a few Dungbombs behind me. There's a muffled boom and a thud as someone trips, but I think more teachers have been alerted, because there seems to be a whole squadron of feet pounding the stone floor behind us.

I don't know the seventh floor as well as I used to, seeing as I haven't been to Trelawney's class in over a month. So I have no idea where I'm going. I let Flint lead the way, following just a few steps behind.

We turn a corner and suddenly I feel Flint hook my elbow with his hand and jerk me to the right. I stumble into him. He takes my other arm and drags me into a small broom closet. Emphasis on small. And dark.

Even empty, it would've been a tight squeeze, but someone shoved at least ten assorted brooms and mops in here. I find myself practically nose-to-nose with Flint.

I curse under my breath and try to turn around, making it a little less awkward. I only get halfway. "Whose brilliant idea was this?" I mutter. "We could've just Apparated."

Flint crosses his arms. Or tries to. My body is blocking them from getting much further. "Come on, Skylar, we've been at this school seven years. It's impossible to Apparate anywhere on the grounds."

"Wanna bet?" I hiss.

"Yeah, maybe I do," he whispers loudly.

This starts off a heated argument about how many Galleons the bet's going to be and how we're going to figure out who's right. I guess we raise our voices without meaning to, because before we know it, we hear footsteps heading right past the door. We both go silent, but it's too late. They're headed straight for the closet.

I glare up at him. "This is all your fault. We're going to be in so much troub –"

A hand is moving on the doorknob outside. Flint stares hard at me, his eyes indecipherable. And then it happens.

He kisses me.


	17. The World Turned Over

**A/N: So, Stevie, to what do our readers owe the pleasure of this early update? **_Stevie: Well, cheapxperfume and I are going on a little vacation. We thought you'd like this chapter early, considering that at this time tomorrow we'll be in a car filled with lots of loud music and conversation, which is no condition to be updating a story._ **A/N: Oh, um, about that…** _Stevie: Yes?_ **A/N: I have to leave you home.** _Stevie: What?!_ **A/N: I'm sorry! There's no room in the – **_Stevie: You know what? Just… just no. Just let them read the bloody chapter. I'll be okay. Sniff._

His lips are like ice, moving fast and unfamiliar against mine. I've pictured this moment a hundred different times… with Cedric. I don't like this Flint-ified version of my fantasy.

The door opens and I jerk away from him. He doesn't meet my eyes, choosing instead to look at McGonagall, who was the one to open the closet and find us in this compromising position. It doesn't faze her in the least; she goes right on with her lecture.

"Nice try, you two, but I saw Clark throw those Dungbombs." I shrug noncommittally. "And there's ink all over your hands, Flint." He hides his hands behind his back and looks down. "It is inexcusable for you to be out creating such havoc… if someone from Beauxbatons or Durmstrang had been around… our reputation… ruined…"

I'm only hearing snatches of what she's saying anymore. Sorry, still shocked by the fact that Flint bloody snogged me. And before you ask, there was zero snogging on my part. Zero.

I tune in just in time to hear her say, "…detention for a month! I can't believe this foolishness! It's…"

Flint's just sitting there and taking it, but I'm remembering my detention with Snape and I can't manage his cool reaction. "Oh, bloody _hell_, McGonagall, do we really –"

"Do you want it to be two months, Clark?"

"I think you know the answer to that as well as –"

"Two months –"

"WHAT?! That's not –"

"Three months –"

"Kiss my –"

"FOUR –"

"Minerva, I think I will take it from here."

It's Professor Sprout. Just in time. McGonagall huffs and stalks away angrily. If Snape hates me a lot, McGonagall hates me 'a lot' times infinity. For some reason I simply can't comprehend, Sprout has a soft spot for me. Maybe I remind her of a screwed-up child she once had.

She gives Flint and me a cold look. "Now, Minerva might have been a little harsh, Clark, but what you did was very, very wrong."

I note the uncustomary use of my surname and open my mouth to speak, but Flint beats me to it. "You're completely right, Professor. We're sorry, it won't happen again."

I glare at the back of his head. He's supposed to be standing up for us, not admitting to what we did! Doesn't he know what's coming next?

"It's lovely to see that you're apologetic, Mister Flint, but what's done is done. A month of detention, and that's not unreasonable in the slightest, seeing what you did to the Fat Lady's painting." She sniffs. "Tomorrow, after dinner, in the greenhouses. Both of you. You'll be fertilizing the plants."

I fight the urge to vomit. I've had this job before. Our fertilizer happens to be the richest dragon dung there is, which is apparently very healthy for the soil, but works up the nastiest smell on earth.

She gives us a deceptively sweet smile and walks away.

Flint and I fight to get through the door at the same time, but we get miraculously tangled and stuck in the frame.

"This is all your fault," I squeeze out, trying to force myself through. "If you'd stood up for us –"

"What are you talking about, Skylar?" He sucks in his breath and tries to fit around me. "I just saved our arses. Didn't you hear McGonagall? Did you really want FOUR months of detention?"

I push one of my arms between us and work on getting the other free. "Well, no… but I had everything under control. It was all just spiffing until you broke in."

"Until I broke in?! You were ruining it for both of us and you know it! We would've been stuck in Sprout's greenhouses for the rest of the year!" He manages to jut one leg out around mine, and continues. "Is that really how you want to end your time at Hogwarts?"

Unfortunately, I'm seeing his logic; however much I don't want to admit it. So I fight back with the only card I have left to play.

"Well… well, why did you kiss me?!"

I'm right. He completely freezes in the doorframe and takes a step back. Unprepared, I fall flat on my face.

"Bloody hell," I sputter under my breath as I get to my feet. "Why'd you do it, Flint?"

Flint looks at me. "Because… because McGonagall was coming and I thought if we were… then she'd… and then we wouldn't…"

"Uh-huh… okay." I roll my eyes. "Look, Flint, I don't know why that happened, and frankly, I'm not sure if I want to. But for now, let's just say that Ashby possessed your body or used Polyjuice Potion or something because that kiss meant absolutely nothing at all." I take a deep breath. "Right?"

"Yeah… yeah, of course. Um, listen, Skylar, I should probably go and meet up with Trent and Lance and Crane…"

"Oh. Um, yeah, right then. I'll talk to you later?"

"Of course." And without further ado, he walks off.

"Stupid boys!" I mutter as soon as he's out of earshot. "Snogs me and then walks away… bloody hell." I kick the doorframe. It cracks, and I think my big toe does too. I start to hobble towards the hospital wing.

"Just… bloody… brilliant…"

x x x

Prospects are bleak. Five days have passed and awkwardness prevails in all my (short) conversations with Flint. Alcohol doesn't loosen every tongue. I've returned to that oh-so-familiar corner whenever Flint gets a new shipment. The only difference is Flint's in a corner of his own now. We down firewhisky by the bottle and stare at each other while the other guys talk and laugh and joke like normal. Like we used to.

I don't have a lot of choice aside from putting all my energy and focus into my classes. Snape and McGonagall both grudgingly present me with relatively good grades, and I'm doing basically okay in all my other classes. I end up spending all my free time in my room, though, because Cedric's always in the library with Cho and he could walk into the common room at any moment.

Ah, detention. How could I forget? Well, since that means spending at least an hour with Flint every single day, I'd say it's pretty difficult to avoid him as of late. At least we're not forced to talk or anything. Sprout tends to leave the room most of the time, though. I think she notices that you can cut the tension with a knife whenever we're in the same vicinity of each other.

With all the Slytherpuff drama that's been going on, the third Tri-wizard task and the issues surrounding it almost slipped completely from my mind. It slides back in, however, when the teachers start talking about in class more often. I overhear Flitwick giving Cedric some tips in Charms class and fight the urge to turn around. Cedric's a thing of the past, isn't he?

Isn't he?

Flint sends me yet another note in Potions class. _New __shipment_. That's all it says.

I'm walking to the classroom as fast as I can after my last class ends. I'm glancing into open doorways, casually taking peeks at the teachers in their offices, when something in the Transfiguration classroom catches my eye. I retrace my steps and look back in.

Someone's by the desk, but it's not McGonagall. Actually, make that two someones. I'm sure you already know by now: Cho and Cedric.

He presses her up hard against the desk; his hands around her waist like I imagined them around mine so many times. She sighs and wraps her arms around his neck, pure bliss settling on her features.

That should've been me.

I accidentally drop my Potions textbook in shock. I watch it fall in slow motion, hurtling toward the ground, pages flying open. Bang. Cedric and Cho jerk apart to see me standing there, framed in the doorway, book on the ground and a look of sheer astonishment/pain/longing on my face.

I don't even look twice at Cho. I don't care about her. No, it's Cedric whose eyes I meet, for the millionth time this year. And I talk with my eyes. I ask him why. I ask him why he had to choose her. I ask him why she's standing there instead of me. I ask him why he wasn't there to save me when Ashby attacked me. And I ask him why he's not here for me anymore.

He opens his mouth, but it's too late. I'm gone.


	18. Are You Someone's Prayer?

**A/N: So my vacation was lovely, albeit rather… loud.** _Stevie: Well, mine was much much better than yours._ **A/N: Sources tell me you sat on the couch for twenty-four hours straight, watching chick flicks and bawling your eyes out.** _Stevie: AHEM. Anyway. This is a pretty drastic chapter. I'm guessing at least a few of you saw this coming. _**A/N: Read on… **_Stevie: (And review!)_

I'm practically in tears when I get to the classroom. Flint's already there; already half drunk. I barely notice him. I dump my bag and go straight for the firewhisky.

He sees the tears glistening on my cheeks like raindrops. "Skylarrr," he slurs. "What's wrong?"

"It's that stupid bloody Cedric," I mutter through my curses. "He's ruining my life and he doesn't even care, he's the biggest bloody arse that I know, I absolutely hate him, I just wish he'd –"

"Drop dead?" Flint inserted, walking tipsily toward me. "I've been wishing that for a very very very very long time now, Sky. See, I've been wanting you forever, and…"

"What the bloody hell are you on about?!" I whisper through gritted teeth.

"Do you know how hot you are when you're angry?" He smiles at me, but it's not a nice smile. It's an evil one.

I finish three bottles without stopping for air and suddenly he pounces, forcing his lips on mine for the second time. And I know it's no accident.

But, strangely enough, I don't push him away. I grip the front of his loose white shirt and pull him closer. He tastes of alcohol and old breath mints.

"Do you want to?" he murmurs.

_Want to what?_ He starts to pull at my shirt and suddenly I realize. I'm just about to pull away when the image of Cedric and Cho in McGonagall's classroom flashes through my mind. And I realize I'd do anything to numb the pain. Even if I have to pretend.

Maybe Cedric will understand what he means to me, someday. Just not today.

I suck in my breath as Flint discards my shirt. Definitely not how I imagined the moment. But I'm not thinking about that. I'm too drunk to care.

x x x

Light. Ack, bright light. Where am I?

I stretch, look to my left, and scream.

Flint's lying next to me, passed out drunk. And we're both in starkers.

I don't stop screaming. It goes on and on, one high-pitched note that I swear should be shattering glass by now. But he claps a hand over my mouth before any windows break.

"Isn't it a little early to be screaming bloody murder?" he asks me, yawning.

"B-but, w-we… y-you…" I gulp desperately. "We didn't… DO anything, did we?"

He rubs his temples in exasperation. "Skylar, what does it look like? You really don't remember anything, do you?"

Tears start to well in my eyes. "Merlin, Flint… How could you?!"

I slap him across the face. Hard. The sound reverberates off the walls like a never-ending echo.

He touches his cheek, where it's starting to swell. "From what I remember, Skylar, you were a willing participant!" he spits out.

"I was completely infuriated with Cedric! Or didn't you notice? Maybe you were too busy staring at my arse, Flint, but I was drunk and he was the only person on my mind. Why would you take advantage of me like that?"

"Skylar, for five seconds, maybe you could pry your eyes away from that stupid pretty boy and take a look around you! There are plenty of blokes who'll have you if you'd let them! It's time for you to stop moaning about unrequited love and get over that –"

"Don't you dare insult him unless you want a matching handprint on the other side of your face," I say in a low, even voice. Flint touches his cheek again and stares at me.

"He's a prat. That's all he is. A bloody –"

Slap. A second handprint. "No, that's what you are, you –"

"He doesn't even pay you any attention! I can treat you right! I –"

"Oh, of course, Flint, whenever I'm drunk and you want a shag. By the way, that's not treating someone right, that's using them. That's all any of you ever do – use me!" I stand up and grab my clothes from the floor, jerking them roughly onto my body.

He watches me dress silently. I resist the urge to hex his eyes out and pull on the last shoe with as much dignity as I can muster.

"Skylar…" He tries to come toward me, but I pull out my wand and hold it out in front of me like a sword.

"No, I don't need any of you anymore. You know what, Flint? You can say whatever you bloody want, but in the end, you're just the same as Ashby."

I stare into those hard grey eyes for one eternal second, and I see what I missed the first million times. No emotion. No caring at all. Lust is all it is.

That's all it ever was. Mutual benefits. Him getting what he wanted. And now he's gotten it.

I spin on my heel and walk calmly out of the room. I think I hear glass break behind me, followed by some muffled cursing. And then I start to run.

It's all too much. I can't take it anymore. I'm running full out, tears streaking my face. I fall a couple times, but I just get back up and keep going. I go right past the common room, but I realize my mistake and trudge back.

I sneak through the common room without too many people noticing me and lock myself in the dorm.

I stay holed up in there for a whole day. It's not like I'm unfamiliar with skipping class or anything. And I'm afraid to venture out. I feel like the moment I go outside, everyone will know what's different about me. I'll be the talk of the school and they'll call me the most horrible names. I just don't know if I can bear it.

In the end, it's Carla that pulls me out. She's noticed that I haven't moved from my bed the whole day and she insists that I go to dinner.

Let the paranoia begin.

I keep my head down and don't look anybody in the eye. I take a seat a few chairs down from dear old Ernie MacMillan, because it's a rare occasion that anyone ever sits near him. He grins widely at me. I choose to stare at my empty plate.

And that's when I hear Flint.

"Aye, I finally got her. Took a couple months, but I knew she'd crack. Just like Parkinson, remember that?" I unconsciously clench my fork. Three guesses who he's talking about in that abominable nasally voice?

"And how was she, Flint?"

"Ah, well. Somewhere around number five, I suppose. Definitely not the best, she kept squealing like a baby, but she did look –"

And then another voice cuts him off. The very, very last voice I'd expect.

Cedric flipping Diggory.

"Oy, Flint, who're you talking about?"

I risk a glance at the Slytherin table. Cedric towers over Flint by at least two inches. Flint should be a cowering, intimidated lump on the ground by now. But instead, that foul git smirks. "Skylar Clark, who else? Though I suppose you know what that slut is like in bed already –"

_Punch._ Wow. That must really hurt after being slapped twice.

I look up again. Flint's doubled over, staring at Cedric in shock. Actually, Cedric looks pretty shocked himself.

Flint bends over a moment more, than rights himself.

Oh no. He's started a war.


	19. On Your Knees

**A/N: Do you think Beauxbatons is as dramatic as Hogwarts?** _Stevie: Well, I always imagine those burly Durmstrang students having a lot of fights. Kind of like the one between Cedric and Flint…_ **A/N: Shhh! They haven't read that yet!** _Stevie: It's in this chapter, relax!_ **A/N: Sorry guys, we were just having a little discussion. Enjoy the cliffhanger.**

Flint throws himself at Cedric, cursing loudly. Cedric sidesteps quickly to the right and throws a punch of his own. Flint's jaw cracks as his head jerks up, reeling with the blow. He snarls, then goes right back into action, sending out a series of quick hits, two or three of which land on Cedric's chest and stomach.

By now the teachers have noticed the uproar, but they're on the other side of the Great Hall. I see Flitwick running at top speed toward the mob, but he keeps getting knocked back by the much taller students, who are unanimously screaming, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

I huddle over my now-soggy cereal, trying to look as innocent as possible but still stealing glances every now and then. One of those times I catch Cedric delivering a perfect right hook to Flint's chin, and I whistle under my breath. Maybe it's just my imagination, but I think Cedric hears me – he looks up and meets my eyes, momentarily distracted. The moment costs him. Flint makes a fast recovery and strikes him in the gut. Cedric's about to make a comeback when someone finally gets between them – but it's not Flitwick.

Hagrid lifts each of them up by their shirtfronts and holds them a foot off the ground. Everyone takes an automatic three steps back. Cereal completely abandoned, I swivel on my lonely bench and watch the scene play out.

"What d'ya think yer doin'?" Hagrid growls at them.

"He… he just came at me, Mister Hagrid, sir!" Flint moans pathetically. There's blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth, and I hope I also see a few broken teeth.

"This true, Diggory?" Hagrid rounds on the boy to his left.

"I had a reason," Cedric says firmly. "He called –"

Everyone goes dead silent. Cedric looks at me through the corner of his eye. I slouch down ever so slightly. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone brought me into the conversation…

"Never mind." Cedric lowers his eyes. "I think my friend wishes to remain anonymous."

_Friend._ I bite down hard on my bottom lip. After all our relationship has gone through, he still calls me friend. Cedric will never cease to amaze me.

Hagrid gives him a quizzical look, but lets it slide and sets them both on the ground. Not seeing any immediate danger in store for the two offenders, the crowd begins to disperse. I, however, don't look away. Hagrid bends down a little so they can hear him better.

"I'm lettin' you get away with it this time, Diggory, since you've got yerself a pretty clean slate… and a championship under your belt…" Hagrid sighs, then turns to Flint. "Flin', on the other hand – didn't yeh jus' get inna fight with Ashby? I'm goin' to have a talk with your Head o' House about this."

Flint is instantly puppy-dog eyes and apologies. "No, no, that's not necessary, Mister Hagrid, you really don't need to talk to him about this, honestly –"

I doubt Snape will be happy about having to cover Flint's tracks again. Coward.

Hagrid ends up dragging him away by the ear, to my amusement. But then Cedric turns and sees me, still sitting at the abandoned Hufflepuff table. Before he can so much as move towards me, however, I'm on my feet and walking out of the Great Hall as fast as I can.

"Skylar…"

I'm just not ready to talk to him. Not him. Not anyone. And especially not him.

"Skylar, please. Come back."

I pause, but I don't look back. "Cedric, I've spent my whole life walking away." I stop, take a deep breath, and continue. "What makes you think that now is going to be any different?"

x x x

Focus. Focusfocusfocus.

I curse. I've been staring at the same page in the same book for the past thirty minutes, trying desperately to study for finals, and yet all I can think about is… it. The Thing. What We Did.

I stand up and hurl _Advanced Transfiguration_ across the dorm room. Bam. It hits the wall and slides to the ground, the binding probably ruined for life. I slump down against the wall and stare at the wooden floor.

Okay, so maybe I've never had great morals. I've cheated on tests, big deal. I stole a Chocolate Frog once when I wasn't even that hungry. I've lied to my parents, just like every other kid. I'm only human.

But one thing I hadn't planned on was… losing my virginity. Even with all the spells and procedures, I felt most comfortable with waiting. Flint had just sidestepped this massive bit of reasoning and done it. He hadn't bothered asking or talking about it. There weren't any boundaries because nobody had ever set them. And "that" was the only reason he ever got close to me.

I have nothing anymore. Nothing.

I run my hands through my hair as those stupid, stupid furious tears start to fall again. I used to be good. Well, as good as I could get. Where did I go wrong? What did I do?

I think all my problems started the day I lost Cedric for good.

I'm not angry. I'm not sad. I can't feel anything at all. Studying would be hopeless at this point.

I glance around quickly for Carla. No sign of her. Not that I care if she sees what I'm about to do. I dive under her bed and retrieve several bottles of firewhisky.

Hopeless.

So hopeless.

Second bottle. Alone, all alone.

Third bottle. So shiny, sparkly red. What am I doing to myself? Will Skylar Clark be able to bounce back from this? Or has she been permanently deflated?

Fourth bottle. I've really lost it this time, haven't I?

Somewhere between my fifth and sixth bottles I stagger to my feet and out the door. It's around ten o' clock, but that's the last thing on my mind. Frankly, I have no idea what I'm doing. I feel weirdly detached, as though I'm watching myself through someone else's eyes. And all I can think about is how filthy I am now, how unloved.

I have a revelation as I lurch out of Hogwarts' front door – I don't care anymore.

I'm not sure when exactly I start to see my life flash before my eyes. Maybe it's when I find myself teetering on the pier next to the Black Lake, or maybe it's a little before that. Time is distorted when you're this far gone.

I sit down, just so I can feel something solid beneath me, and take another swig of firewhisky. That's when the memories start to blur into me.

I see myself with Cedric, riding our matching first brooms around the front yard of my house. What were we, four? Five?

There was that one time I spiked his hair with some Muggle hair gel my mum had stashed in the bathroom. Merlin, I've never seen anyone look more like a porcupine.

Our first trip on the Hogwarts Express. Little me huddled on the compartment seat, quaking with nerves, and Cedric just laughing at me, relaxed against the wall like he owned the place.

Stupid, beautiful boy.

I don't even notice I'm crying till a shuddering sob meets my ears, and I realize it's my own. Does Cho even know what she took away from me? Did she know that he was my life; all I had; my one and only friend?

More importantly, did he know?

Well, it's too late for that now. Too late to go back. Nobody knows I'm out here. I wonder if they'll notice when I'm gone?

I stand up and take a faltering step towards the water. It's so cold. Black. Strangely inviting, like a darkened razorblade. There's no moon, no reflection. Just coldness.

I'm on the edge now. This is the end.


	20. Almost

**A/N: Best. Chapter. Ever.** _Stevie: Yeah, I think that's it._

I clamp my eyes shut tightly and imagine the water taking me over. Come on, jump, Clark. Do it before you lose your nerve.

I coil up slightly, exhale, and release. I can just feel the bottoms of my feet start to leave the pier when I feel someone grab the hand that's not holding a bottle. Now I'm entirely solid; the flying sensation is gone.

"Let me go," I say weakly, trying to jerk out of the person's grasp. Who is it, anyway? Probably Sprout, trying to once and for all fix her screwed-up student…

I turn. The blue-grey crashes into neon green with the force of a tidal wave. Instantly I feel everything drain out of my body. The fear in his eyes – something I never thought I'd see – it scares me more than anything. And he's afraid for me.

It's Cedric.

"Skylar," he whispers. "Please, whatever's making you do this… stop. I… I need you here with me, Skylar, please." He's begging now. "I need you."

"Why?!" I half-scream at him. Rational thought escaped my mind after the first bottle. "You've got your Ravenclaw princess, you've got half the female population pining after you, you've got your whole life as Minister of bloody Magic ahead of you… why the bloody hell would you need me?"

"Because you mean more to me than anyone else. I've known you your whole life, Skylar. I know absolutely everything about you, I've memorized every single one of your flaws, and I still care about you." He's blinking hard now. "Skylar, I screwed up this whole year so bad – I don't know how you can still stand to be near me. And I know I'm probably the one who led you to this. But you're like… you're like my oxygen. Whatever you want to call it, Skylar, I don't know if there's a name for it. I just… I don't know how to say… Oh, the hell with it. Skylar, I'm in love with you."

And then he presses his lips against mine. Everything comes true at once. I never believed in happy endings, but then what would you call this? He's everything, he's the only one I've ever wanted, and here he is with me, now.

Though I've imagined this moment a thousand different ways, it still ends up being unpredictably amazing. His lips mold perfectly against mine like we were made for this; born for this. My free hand tangles in his soft hair. His hands are gentle on my waist; one slides up my side and down to my wrist and then my fingers, still clenched around the bottle.

He pulls away, slightly, and speaks against my lips. "Let's end this together, shall we?"

I think it would've been impossible to say no to Cedric Diggory. I'm incapable of speech, so it's all I can do to nod. His warm fingers spread across mine, loosening them one by one, and we watch together as the firewhisky bottle slips out of our grasp and makes a resounding splash in the murky waters. I know in that moment that the addiction is over, because the gap I was trying so hard to fill has been filled at last.

Cedric turns his face back and smiles slightly, his half-lidded eyes looking deep into mine. "It's okay now, Skylar. I'm never going to leave you again."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He brushes his lips against mine, just once, and then he intertwines our fingers together. "Let's go."

I think I'm willing to follow him to the ends of the earth right about now. He leads me off the pier and through the grass, up the path to Hogwarts.

And that's when we see Cho. I take a step off cloud nine and look at her. Her long raven hair blows around her face in shock as her eyes flit to our clasped hands.

"Ced – Cedric?" she says. "What – What the bloody hell are you doing with her?!"

He gently lets go of my hand and levels himself with Cho's face, his eyes deadly calm. "Cho, I'm sorry, but I royally screwed things up thinking I wanted to be with you. You don't even need me." His face hardens. "I'm your accessory – nothing more than your ticket to popularity. But Skylar… Skylar needs me."

I see a myriad of expressions fly across Cho's face at lightning speed: anger, distress, alarm, humiliation… then back to anger. Inevitable anger. I shrink back slightly from the burning rage that distorts her face. Because Cho Chang does not consider losing Cedric Diggory a possibility. It's simply out of the question.

"She doesn't _need_ you!" Cho screeches furiously. "She's too busy sleeping with Marcus Flint to need you! And don't get me started about her and Patrick Ashby! She's a slut and a tease, Ced, she doesn't need you! She'll use you just like she used them!"

I bite down on my lip hard; so hard that a metallic taste fills my mouth. Like the cold metal of a Galleon on my tongue. Blood. Now Cedric knows what I really am; everything I did wrong.

I don't realize I'm running till I hear Cedric calling my name faintly in the distance. I still hear Cho's screaming voice, then abrupt silence as I burst through the castle doors. There are students mulling aimlessly around; some of them give me weird looks, but that's the last thing on my mind.

I stumble into the Hufflepuff common room, flop onto one of couches and close my eyes tight. For one amazing, wonderful moment, I thought my crazy dream was finally coming true. But of course, stupid Cho had to come along and mess everything up.

I don't even want to think about what I lost.

I lie there on the couch for a long time. Maybe minutes. Hours. Days. Years. Eventually I'm the only person left in the common room.

After a while/forever, I hear the door creak open and slam shut. I know without moving a muscle that it's Cedric. Let's just say I get this… feeling whenever he walks into the room. Sorry, can't help it.

I feel his eyes on me for a moment, then he walks over to my lonely couch and sits down next to me.

Okay. Was _not_ expecting that.

I think he expects me to say something, but I don't. We sit there, side by side, for one awkward minute, before he finally breaks the silence.

"So."

Great conversation starter, that kid.

"So."

Can't say I'm much help.

There's another minute of silence. Then we both try to talk at once.

"About what happened –"

"Did you and Cho –"

We both stop. He clears his throat. "Sorry. You first."

"No, you."

"No, really, Skylar, go ahead."

"No, you, I insist."

"No, go ahead."

"No, really I'm –"

"Skylar, don't make me force it out of you."

I take a deep breath. "Fine. Okay. Look, if you got back together with Cho, then that… that… that _kiss_, it doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to."

He looks at me. I hold my breath. "Unless you want it to…?"


	21. You Know

_Stevie: Hey guys, just wanted to say that cheapxperfume was overwhelmed by the great response she got for the last chapter – she'd be telling you herself, but the thing is she's on vacation AGAIN. Not that I'm bitter or anything. Because I'm not. Ahem. But anyways, here's the next chapter…_

Cedric stares hard at me. "Skylar, do you really think I'd just throw you away like that? Didn't you listen to anything I said back there by the lake?"

I just shrug. "After what Cho said, I didn't know if…"

He snorts. "Like I'd believe anything that comes out of her mouth anymore. I found out that she was cheating on me with Roger Davies a week ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He takes my chin in his hand and turns my face so that his grey eyes can have my full attention. "I think that after all this time, Skylar, you were always the one for me. I tried so many different girls, but none of them had what you have. I can't even explain what you've been for me; after all these years. Believe me, Skylar Clark. It was always going to be you."

He kisses me, and for the second time in my life, I feel like I'm falling and flying and diving and soaring and coming alive all over again, all at once. It's purity and passion and everything and nothing and I wonder why we waited so long if we've always been meant for each other.

Because I know we are now. Nothing has ever felt so right.

After awhile, we break away and suck in that pure, wonderful thing called oxygen. For the first time in seventeen years, I feel like I can breathe.

I don't know how long we lie there together. He holds me in his arms and occasionally buries his face in my hair or leans in for another kiss, muttering sweet things that we won't remember when tomorrow comes. I just bask in the feel of his arms around me; inhaling his scent. He smells like fresh cologne and something foresty.

And when we kiss, he tastes like… bloody hell. There's no word for it. Cedric Diggory.

x x x

I don't remember falling asleep, but I wake up the next morning to catcalls and whistles.

I look around sleepily, wondering what all the girls are cooing at, and what all the blokes are muttering, "About time," for, and then I realize.

My head just so happens to be resting on Cedric Diggory's chest.

He yawns and stretches; I sit up and rub my eyes. He lazily looks up and the crowd and gives them all an overdramatic wave: they laugh and disperse.

I'm on the edge of the couch, putting on my shoes, when he looks over at me and clears his throat.

I look over at him. "Yes?"

He kisses me out of nowhere. "I'm just so happy I can finally do that."

I smile. He smiles. I return to my shoe.

He starts to speak again. I don't need to look at him; I can hear the smile fading from his words. He's serious now.

"Skylar, I was just thinking… about what Flint and Cho were saying yesterday… was there any truth to that?"

I fumble with the laces, determined not to look at him. "Some."

That intensity of that grey stare makes me nervous. "How much?"

I've tied and untied my shoes five times now – I can't use that as an excuse anymore. I face him, playing nervously with the tassel of a pillow. "Look, Ced. I'm not blaming any of this on you. More on my own stupidity, and on Flint for taking advantage of me."

And I tell him everything. The night of the Yule Ball, where things first started to change. My downward spiral into addiction. The late nights of firewhisky and meaningless conversations. The Ashby Disaster. And the Flint Fiasco No. 2.

"I didn't want to… I don't know what I was thinking… we were drunk…" Two crystallized tears slide out of the corners of my eyes and down my face, leaving two wet tracks in their wake. I fix him with my watery green gaze and wait for a reaction.

He casts aside all my stupid mistakes and wrong decisions, and opens his arms. "Skylar, it's okay," he says as I bury my face in his sweet-smelling shirt. "Nothing will change the way I feel about you, I promise."

I look up at him, smiling through my tears. "Even if I was Romilda Vane using Polyjuice Potion?"

He blinks, then breaks out into that million-dollar smile I love so much. "Even if you were Romilda Vane using Polyjuice Potion… I guess."

We laugh, and I feel alive again.

x x x

That first day of together-ness is the definition of perfection. Although all the Ravenclaws avoid us like the plague, most of Hufflepuff is happy to see that Ced and I finally got together. Carla even gives me a thumbs-up at breakfast – one thing I never thought I'd see.

Classes are all review for our fast-approaching N.E.W.T.s, but now that Cedric's by my side, I know I can do it. I do so well in Transfiguration that I out-perform half the class. Our job is to turn a whistle into a watch as part of our review – I manage a miniature grandfather clock. McGonagall is grudgingly impressed. Cedric makes faces behind her back for seventy-five percent of the class as I hold in my laughter.

I feel like someone performed a Cheering Charm on me as class ends. But even as I walk hand-in-hand with Cedric and we near the dungeon stairwell, I feel the happiness start to ebb away.

Just like that, he feels it. Almost like there's a seamless emotional bond that runs through us; he can feel everything inside of me. So he feels the worry now.

"It's Flint, isn't it? You're afraid of seeing him again."

I don't respond; just look up and shrug. He knows the answer anyway.

He squeezes my hand. "I'm right here, Skylar. I'm willing to give him another black eye if he needs it."

"In the middle of Potions?" I say incredulously.

He grins, flashes a wink, and guides me to the steps. "Yes, in the middle of Potions. Now, forward march!"

It's not as bad as I expected. Then again, I don't know what I was expecting. We walk into the class and Flint's already sitting there, looking glum with a ring of dull purple around his left eye.

"I feel like I should sign the masterpiece; you know, leave my mark, being the artist and all," Cedric whispers as we sit down. I smirk, feeling the tiniest bit more confident.

So we did It. No big deal. He has no power over me because of it. None.

Snape spends the whole class lecturing us about the finals. Since Cedric's a champion, he doesn't have to take them. Therefore, he doesn't feel the need to pay attention. He chucks pieces of paper at me when Snape's not looking and whispers about the abnormal size of Flint's head. I have to fight giggles the whole time. I'm probably going to end up failing my Potions final…

Flint's at the table in front of us, sitting next to one of his cohorts, Lance. When Snape turns to write something on the board, Cedric seizes the moment and throws a broken quill at the back of Flint's head.

Flint yelps and turns around, but Cedric is studiously copying down notes from the board with not even a hint of a smile. I don't know how he does it. It's all I can do to press my lips together, keep my head down, and try not to laugh.

Snape heard Flint's howl. He spins around angrily, his greasy hair framing his sallow face as he marches over to the desk and stares hard at Flint.

"Do you want to tell me, Mister Flint, why you felt the need to disrupt the class?"

Oh yeah. Snape's definitely angry about having to cover Flint's arse in the aftermath of his fight with Cedric. I guess this could work in our favor.

"I – but – they – he –" Flint sputters.

"Not good enough, Flint. See me after class."

Flint groans and glares at Lance, who shrugs helplessly.

"Justice prevails," Cedric mutters, glancing up from his notes to look at me.

I hold in another laugh.


	22. You Were The Same As Me

**A/N: OK, the craziest week of my life is almost over. Lucky for you guys, some things never change. Here's your usual update, right on time. Enjoy.** _Stevie: Yeah… what she said._

The last week before the Third Task and finals is a flurry of studying, distractions, stolen kisses, and overall Cedric-ness. Sometimes the studying does get overwhelming and intense, I admit. And sometimes I have the urge to reach for a firewhisky. But Cedric's there to stop me; he's there to hold me together. It makes up for everything that happened this past year. As long as he's with me now, I'm happy.

Cho still throws me dirty looks whenever I see her. Cedric and I have a run-in with her and a few of her followers in the library while I'm trying to find a book to help me with my not-so-great study habits.

She speaks in a stage whisper. "Oh, look, it's the latest Firebolt – everyone rides her."

Cedric clenches his fists. "You can't hit a girl," I murmur, covering his hand with my own. "Just ignore her." He nods, then walks off a little ways to find another book for me.

Really, I have Cedric and she doesn't. Why would her insults bother me?

I turn my back on her and examine the bookshelf, looking for the author Roberta Cullen. But Cho's presence lingers like a bad taste in my mouth.

She whispers more insults to her cronies in a voice too low for me to hear. They giggle incessantly after each sentence escapes her lips. Fed up, I round on her.

"Tell me, Cho, how's Roger Davies? I mean, since you two know each other on such a…" I clear my throat. "Personal level."

She stares hard at me, then glances over at Cedric. I get up in her face and smirk. "A little late to be thinking twice, Cho dear. He knows. Hope Davies was worth it, because you won't be getting Cedric back now."

I scan the library until my eyes settle on who I'm looking for. "And it doesn't look like you'll be getting Davies back either, for that matter."

Cho and her Ravenclaw zombies follow my line of vision. All four of them gasp in shock. Davies is sitting at a secluded table with none other than Romilda Vane, heartily snogging the pants off of her.

Forgetting me, Cho leaves her group and storms over to the Quidditch Captain, who doesn't even notice her presence until she wrenches him away from Romilda.

"What are you doing?!" she screams at him. Across the room, I see pinch-faced Madam Pince look up sharply.

"Enjoying myself, what does it look like?" He pulls his arm out of her clutch and tries to return to Romilda.

For a Ravenclaw, he really isn't that bright.

Cho jerks his arm and he almost falls off the chair. "Cho, what the –"

"What about that night, Roger?" She looks directly at Cedric as she says this as she does her best attempt at a seductive smirk. Ugh. "I know you remember that night as well as I do…"

Roger stares blankly at her. "I thought you said that was a one-night thing? No strings attached…"

Cho glowers at him and he shrinks back the smallest bit, like he just said something he wasn't supposed to.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Madam Pince walk around her desk and towards the little scene. I back away slowly. Cho doesn't even notice.

"That was then. This is now," she says, her voice deathly calm.

He removes himself from her grasp again and stands up, taking Romilda's hand. "Come on," he says to her, "we have better places to be."

This dramatic exit is followed by Cho getting kicked out of the library and throwing a fit all the way to Dumbledore's office.

Here's some news for you, folks: Revenge is definitely not best served cold. Nothing has ever felt better than watching Cho kick and scream her way out of my life. Except maybe that kiss Cedric gives me as we watch her go.

x x x

The night before the finals and the third task, I think I'm definitely the most worried person in the room. Not only to I have to worry about the tests tomorrow, but I also have to worry about my… boyfriend. Wow, that sounds so weird. Calling him my boyfriend after seventeen years of forcing myself to think otherwise.

Anyway. The task is tomorrow, but he seems shockingly relaxed. I hole myself up in a corner of the common room, desperately cramming for History of Magic, and he doesn't hesitate to sit down next to me.

I pretend to ignore him. He fashions a straw out of a scrap of parchment and blows a gooey spitball at me, landing on my cheek.

I roll my eyes and wipe it off. "Ew. Cedric, stop being distracting."

"Distracting?"

"Yes! Distracting!"

"Skylar, I'm not being distracting. Now, this… this is distracting."

He gives me a long, full kiss. Bugger. That _is_ more distracting.

I give him a look as he pulls away. He just smirks at me.

"Okay, so that's VERY distracting. But that's exactly what I don't need right now. Look! I shove my 800-page textbook under his nose. "Goblin wars! Witch burnings! All of which I'd know already if you weren't so distracting!"

Cedric sniffs. "Fine. I'll just… go… then…"

He gives me a pathetic look, puppy-dog eyes and all, as he gets up and starts to walk away. He only gets about two steps before I grab the back of his robes and pull him down on the chair.

"All right, you can stay," I sigh. "But only if you help me study, okay? No more spitballs."

"Snogging?" he says hopefully.

I give him a look and he takes _A History of Magic_ from me. "Fine!"

Five hours later, I think I've basically learned as much as my brain can hold. Reading another word would only mean losing brain cells.

I look over at Cedric and hold back a smile. He stopped quizzing me about a half hour after he started so I could review more, and ended up passing out on my books. His head is resting on top of my Arithmancy textbook, the rich color of his tousled chestnut hair a sharp contrast against the black-and-white symbols. His face is clear of all worry lines; he looks utterly serene and… angelic. Absolutely angelic.

I wonder for the millionth time what I did right. How could plain old Skylar Clark, the Hufflepuff screw-up, the no-good recovering addict, end up with someone as amazing as Cedric Diggory?

I rest my hand lightly on his shoulder and he blinks his way into consciousness. "Sk – Skylar?" he yawns, lifting up his head and stretching his arms. "Sorry, I should've been helping you study. How long was I out?"

I give him a soft smile. "It's almost midnight. Everyone else is gone."

He glances around the common room, yawning again. "Oh. I guess you're right."

Then he slaps his forehead. "Merlin, I almost forgot!" He jumps to his feet and starts to gather my things into a haphazard pile.

I stand up, trying to help him with the heap of Transfiguration diagrams. "What? What is it?"

Once he's succeeded in jamming everything into my bag, he looks up and flashes one of those world-famous smiles at me. The smile that makes me melt every time. And then he takes my hand.

"I have a surprise for you."


	23. Inside

**A/N: So it's about one in the morning, I just had the night of my life, and I'm incredibly tired. I should probably be sleeping instead of rambling, but I figured you guys would want an update. Thanks for all the reviews by the way. Sorry to "reward" you with such a cliffhanger.** _Stevie: You never let me talk anymore._ **A/N: How'd you get that duct tape off?!**

He pulls me by my hand out of the common room, and for a moment it feels like we're kids again, and we're in Diagon Alley. Perhaps he's leading me to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, or some Quidditch supply shop he found hidden away in one of the alleys.

But then the flashback ends, and I realize that our feet are pounding up stairs. I bite my lip and glance around. We could get in trouble for being out this late. Well, I don't really care about myself, but Cedric…

"Ced," I whisper loudly. "What if we get caught?"

He laughs. "You really think they'd do anything to me, a Triwizard champion? Besides, it's almost the end of our last year. Live a little, Skylar."

"Where are we going?"

He puts a finger on my lips to shush me, then leads me to another flight of stairs. "I told you already, that's a surprise."

It's only after the fourth staircase that I recognize the path. "The Astronomy Tower?"

He doesn't respond; he just throws open the door after the final staircase and there we are.

"Ta-dah," he says, giving me a cheesy grin. I gasp quietly as he releases my hand from his, giving me the freedom to look around.

Sometime when I was busy studying earlier in the day, he'd come up and made a makeshift bed on the floor of the Astronomy Tower, full of fluffy warm blankets and pillows. The sky above us is bright and clear, stars shining down on us like little Muggle flashlights as the full moon looks on.

"Oh." It's all I can say. I turn my enthralled face up to the sky in awe.

Cedric comes up behind me and kisses my neck. "It's one of our last nights here at Hogwarts," he says softly. "I thought I'd make it one to remember."

I weave my fingers through his and we just stand there for a moment, staring up at the sky together.

x x x

We talk for at least an hour before I start to feel tired. That's one of the great things about Cedric: he's always got something profound on his mind. The meaning-of-life kind of profound.

But then, sometimes it's okay to be silent, too.

He holds me close to him, our fingers still knotted together as we look up into the endless midnight blue. "I love you," he whispers, bringing my hand to his lips.

"I love you, too," I breathe.

A shooting star flashes across the sky seconds later. "Make a wish," he murmurs into my hair.

I smile vaguely. "I don't need to," I reply. "I already have the only thing I'll ever need."

x x x

I wake up with the sunrise, the golden fingers stretching across our bed to hit my pillow. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I climb from under the blankets, still clothed in the rumpled blouse and pleated skirt of the previous day, and stand at the edge of the tower, watching the sun poke its orangey head over the hilltops.

Cedric comes up behind me, putting his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head. "Morning," he says tiredly.

I look up at him. "Isn't it?"

He smiles. "It is."

After breakfast Cedric and I part so I can troop off with the rest of the school to take my exams. I do fairly well, I believe. Considering the fact that the room is sweltering and I spend at least half an hour watching a fly land on McGonagall's head repeatedly, I think I focused moderately okay.

As soon as I'm done, Cedric finds me. I thought we were going to sit down and eat, but instead he grabs my arm and starts pulling me towards a back room.

"Ced, what –?"

"My dad's here," he grins. "I want you to meet him."

Well, I've obviously met Cedric's dad thousands of times before. He's practically a second father to me. But all those times I'd always been Skylar, Cedric's best friend. Now I'm Skylar, Cedric's _girl_friend. See the difference?

Cedric spots him among the crowd of champions and their families almost instantaneously, and starts to jog in his direction, beckoning me along. When Amos Diggory sees us coming towards him, swinging our clasped hands together like two four-year-olds, I swear the smile stretches his cheeks out two inches more than normal. Cedric gives my hand a squeeze and flashes a reassuring grin as we come to a halt in front of him, like we're awaiting his approval.

Mr. Diggory gives a contented sigh. "All I can say, Cedric," he says, "Is it's about time!"

We all start to laugh simultaneously.

x x x

Cedric and I spend at least an hour catching up with Amos over lunch, but before long the champions are getting called down for the task. Cedric gives his dad a long hug and then we leave him at the Hufflepuff table, waving crazily. The champions are supposed to go alone, but Cedric insists on sneaking me down with him. I laugh as we stumble down the steps to the Quidditch Pitch, our hands still moving wildly back and forth.

My eyes get as big as saucers when I see what they've done to the Pitch. A huge, overgrown maze of bushes overruns the whole thing, seemingly going on forever.

"Don't worry," Cedric whispers in my ear. "They said the Pitch will go back to normal after the Task."

I let a sigh of relief escape me as we come to a stop.

"I have to go now," he says, regretfully stating the obvious.

"You'll be back soon, won't you?"

"Of course. I always come back." He kisses my forehead.

Something cold starts to form in the pit of my stomach, but I'm assuming it's nerves. "Ced…"

He shakes his head. "Look, Skylar, I'm going to be fine, okay? Just –"

A sudden urgency overwhelms me and I bring my lips to his, hard and fast. I can taste the surprise on his mouth for a moment, but it's only a moment, and then he's reacting to the kiss. For a moment it's just me and him, standing in the shadow of the maze, and I forget everything. I forget the Triwizard Tournament and I forget where we are and I forget who I am and there's nothing, nothing but me and nothing but Cedric. Somewhere in the back of my mind I can faintly feel him press his hand to my neck, his fingers sliding up to tangle in my hair. I push myself as close to him as I can, and for a moment, he clouds all five of my senses. All I can hear and feel and taste and smell and see is Cedric Diggory.

Some noise brings me back to earth and my eyelids flutter open to see his awed expression.

"Skylar," he murmurs against my lips. "I love you more than _anything_."

"I know," I whisper back. "Merlin, Ced, I know. I love you, too."

He lets go of me, and it's like part of me has been ripped away. He throws me another regretful expression, and I watch him walk away in slow motion, frozen forever in my mind.

Ten minutes later, the four champions are disappearing into the maze. I catch a glimpse of Hufflepuff yellow and then he's gone.

I sit alone on the bleachers, humming the wedding march to myself. That last moment with Cedric was like something out of a book or a film. Not something that would happen to Skylar Clark. Or can I just call myself Skylar Diggory now? Hmm, let's try that out. Skylar Diggory. Mrs. Skylar Diggory. Skylar Robin Diggory.

Mrs. Cedric Diggory.

I glance across the Pitch to see Amos Diggory. He looks even more nervous than Cedric did before he went in. For a minute I watch him alternate biting his upper and lower lips.

Time passes. The strange, cold feeling in my stomach doesn't go away. I feel vaguely ill. The seconds that pass between my glances at the Pitch shrink in number dramatically.

There's a scream. A Stunned Fleur Delacour is dragged from the maze several minutes later. I feel the cold thing twist in my gut. An unmoving Viktor Krum is also removed ten minutes after Fleur.

Now it's just Harry and Cedric. Cedric and Harry. Alone in the maze.

Alone.

I've involuntarily picked up Amos Diggory's nervous habit. The skin on my lip eventually breaks and blood fills my mouth, metallic and sickly. I choke.

There's a loud bang and a whirlwind of color on the pitch. Gryffindor red and Hufflepuff yellow materialize on the grass. Everyone stands up to cheer, and somewhere trumpets start to play. I see Amos across the Pitch, jumping up and down like a kid.

I start to stand up too, but then I realize something, something that sends me sprawling back down on the bench.

It's Harry and Cedric on the ground. But Harry's crying. There's blood on his shirt.

And Cedric's not moving.


	24. Angels Fall Without You There

**A/N: I gave Stevie the day off because I wanted to introduce this chapter myself. Let me start off by saying that back when I was finishing up this story back in March, I did NOT want to write this chapter. I procrastinated in every way possible. I cleaned my room. I did homework. But finally I knew I had to face it; I sat down and wrote it all the way through. I think, overall, I like how it turned out, in the saddest way possible. Well… here you go. Second to last chapter of Black Balloon.**

A loud, shrill scream fills the air and the trumpets come to an abrupt, screeching halt. Too late, I realize the voice is my own. The applause immediately ceases and everyone turns to look at me.

"Cedric!" I scream. I start to vault down the bleachers, knocking into people, their shocked faces mirroring each other's fright as they follow my gaze.

There's silence. Dumbledore hurries over to Cedric and Harry, who's still crying. There's a small fence that's supposed to separate the audience from the maze, but I jump that without a second thought and stumble over to the huddle. The crowd starts to murmur behind me.

"Cedric!" I scream again. Harry crawls away from his body and it's then, it's then I see those haunting blue-grey eyes. Frozen forever in the same unwavering stare.

It's a stare of death.

"NO!" I scream. I claw desperately at his shirt, accidentally ripping it in my delirium. Someone tries to pull me away, but I don't recognize him. "Cedric, come back!"

Murmurs start to make themselves heard, but I'm deaf to everything. "No, no, no, NO!" I shake his shoulders furiously. I slap the side of his face. I scream in his ear. "Ced, wake up!"

It's denial. Denial. I fling my arms around him desperately.

There are footsteps behind me, and I hear Dumbledore say something. And then I hear the worst part: Amos Diggory's pained moan. There's a thump as he sinks to his knees, no more than five feet away from Cedric.

"My son, my only son…" he chokes.

I turn away, trying to block out all the pain. I lean further over Cedric, pressing my face into that familiar Hufflepuff yellow. "Ced, come on, wake up now, it's not…"

But I know I'm only kidding myself. No, Skylar, it's not a joke. Cedric's not coming back from this. There are only so many times you can bounce back.

I throw my head up and let out a piercing cry. By now the audience has overcome the barrier and streamed onto the Pitch, watching the spectacle with a disconnected air. I hear faint sobs in the background, recognizing Cho even now.

I throw my body over his again, rambling on to an invisible person. "Take me; take me instead. What are you doing?! Cedric needs to live, he can't die, he's got his whole life in front of him. He can be anything. Me…" I let out a strangled sob. "I'm nothing without him. Nothing."

Amos tries to pull me away, but I don't let go of Cedric's shirt, protesting fiercely. I keep repeating, "Nothing… nothing… nothing…" A dazed look settles on my features. Shock.

He still has me by the back of my shirt. "Let go of me!" I scream, lashing out blindly in my anger. Amos drops me, winded by the blow to his chest.

Tall, cloaked men start to crowd on me. I haven't thought twice about crying; the tears stream openly down my cheeks.

"Take me instead of him," I demand point-blank. "Make him live. Kill me. Kill me!"

They don't back away. One of them gets my left arm; the other my right. I start to kick and punch them in spite of myself, but none of my blind hits make contact. They start to drag me away. But Cedric is left on the ground. Cold. D-dead…

I twist around violently, trying to look at him, trying to pull free. "No, let me go back to him! Please!" My wild gaze takes in Amos, who's crying silently at Dumbledore's side. I reach out to him, my eyes begging. "Fix it, Dumbledore, fix him!"

Dumbledore shakes his head once, his eyes sad but not wet. He doesn't understand. He doesn't love Cedric like I do. Nobody ever has.

Not Cho. Not Amos. Nobody. Nobody will ever know what we had. What we had was good and pure and everything right in the world. It was so much bigger than either of us; so much more than anything I'd ever had before, with anyone.

It was so right until it all went wrong.

One of the scary cloaked men is pulling out his wand, but my neck is still twisted. The last thing I see is Cedric's body.

I don't think I'll ever forget what he looks like on this night. Legs bent at strange, mathematical angles, not human ones. Dirty Hufflepuff shirt, yellow-and-black, sharp contrast like a warning or a sign he forgot to heed. Wand still clasped in his right hand, as though he'd been about to ward off the spell, but too late.

And his face. Oh, Merlin, that face. That face is the last thing I'll ever see of Cedric Diggory, living or dead. A trace of blood smeared across his cheek, a token of the short-lived battle. His mouth still open, like there was something he never got to say. And those infamous grey eyes, the ones that had shared such love; such passion with me, they are forever stilled. Wide-open and staring into an abyss of nothing.

I can't feel myself anymore. It's a relief to lose consciousness.

x x x

It's an odd feeling, to wake up. For one blissful moment, I've forgotten everything that's happened. I don't know where I am, or who I am. Then I sit up, and it all comes rushing back in one massive tidal wave. But I don't cry. I stare blankly at the wall of the hospital wing, trying to think so hard that I forget.

It doesn't work.

My vision blurs. I have to rely on my hearing to realize that someone's walking towards me, the footsteps a steady _thump thump thump_.

Someone sits down on the edge of my bed. I rub my eyes, trying desperately to clear my eyes and see who it is.

Harry Potter.

He clears his throat, like I haven't noticed him there already.

"Hi."

"Hi," I respond awkwardly.

"Look," he sighs. "I know you're going through a hard time right now. I just wanted to tell you that Cedric… he really did love you. He didn't have to say it, but you could just tell. That moment we took the cup together… he was thinking of you. It was the smile on his face that did it."

I sniff. His sad emerald eyes meet mine. You can tell so much about someone by their eyes. I look back into his eyes and see the age beyond his years. I see pain and I see things he's gone through that no one should have to experience. I see it all in one glance.

"He loved you," Harry repeats softly. He traces a pattern into the blanket covering my leg, and then he gets up, about to leave. He's almost to the door when I find my voice and call out to him.

"Thanks, Harry."

He turns back and gives me that tired smile. "You're welcome."

I look away. A minute later the door thuds shut, and before I know it I'm blinking hard again.

Cedric. Cedric loved me. I think everyone always knew it all along.

Suddenly I'm a quivering lump of sobs on the bed.

x x x

I don't know why I'm still here, in the hospital wing. There's nothing physically wrong with me. I think they're just afraid of what I might do if they let me go.

I'm getting a lot of other visitors, but the only one that I really remember, besides Harry, is Cedric's dad.

The sadness just emanates from him as he walks into the room. The pity leaks out of me, and I think he feels it. I know he doesn't want it, but I can't help myself. First his wife, now his son. For Amos Diggory, that's everything.

He sits down on the exact spot that Harry took mere hours before, and gives my leg an exhausted pat. "You were always such a good girl, Skylar. You were perfect for him."

It's exactly what every other person that visited has told me, but somehow it means more coming from him.

I don't know what happens next, but suddenly we're both clinging desperately to each other, me crying unabashedly and him rubbing my left shoulder, muttering apologies that he doesn't need to say.

For a moment, it's like Cedric is the one comforting me.


	25. What You Became To Me

_Stevie: Well, it's been almost half a year, and the story is finally coming to an end._ **A/N: As some of you may already know, I'm considering a sequel! Check my profile for information as the next few weeks pass. Oh, and one more thing – thanks so much for every single review, favorite, and alert. You don't know how much it means to me. I really hope you guys enjoyed this story!** _Stevie: Goodbye all!_

When they let me out, it's only because Cedric's funeral is occurring later that day. The first thing I do when I get back to my dormitory is take an hour-long, burning-water shower, doing my utmost to avoid Carla… to avoid people in general, actually.

Once I come out, I realize don't know what to wear. I've never been to a funeral before. Of course, if Cedric was here, he would say it didn't matter. He'd say that I look beautiful in everything. But the point is that he's not here; I'm completely alone.

Alone in the room. Alone in the world. It's all the same to me now.

In the end, I manage to find a pair of grey slacks that I've never worn. Grey like Cedric's eyes. I'm digging through the few things left in my trunk, looking for a suitable shirt, when I find… what's this?

A faded black shirt. I know it's not mine; in fact it takes a few extra seconds for me to recognize it, and when I do, a dull shock vibrates through my chest. It's Cedric's old "dress-up" shirt. I was there with him the day he bought it. How did it get in here…?

I stand motionless in front of my trunk for a moment, inhaling the scent that still remains around the shirt, hovering like a forgotten ghost.

I don't realize Carla's watching me from the doorway until she shuffles her feet; clears her throat. "Um, Skylar, it's about to start. The funeral."

I nod, staring unseeingly at the wall.

She shifts her weight, looking at me awkwardly. "Do you need help or anything?"

Shake for no. Nod for yes. I shake.

She leaves me alone. I let the soft fabric of the shirt slide up one arm, then the other. Numbed, I count the buttons as I button them. One… two… three…

I'm ready now. I'm ready to go. To "see" him for the last time.

Ten minutes later, I'm outside with the entire student body of Hogwarts, plus all the teachers and people from Cedric's life, people that even I don't know. We all stand or sit here, outside on this clear midmorning, for the same reason.

A man in a black suit steps up in front of the coffin and starts to talk about Cedric's life. I tune him out. He knows nothing about Cedric. What he's saying is empty, rehearsed, planned. I look up at the sky instead, at the sun. A brilliant orange-yellow against the soft blue and wispy white.

I stare for too long and my eyes start to burn. I close my eyes and see bright spots as tears automatically form to stop the pain.

The man's done talking now; the monotonous tone of his voice comes to an abrupt end. A few of us get up and gather around the grave. I follow them in a daze, watching as they start to lower the coffin into the dark abyss.

"Goodbye, Ced," I whisper. Right before they levitate the dirt onto the hole, I pick a stray flower from the earth and drop it onto the coffin. A few people glance at me appreciatively and I offer them a small, sad little smile.

And then the dirt falls.

Everyone starts to walk away, although some go to me or Amos first to offer their condolences. Soon I am the only one left.

I read the inscription on the tombstone a thousand times, till I have it memorized – not that it's worth remembering. It's one of those stupid, cliché little things that's always on a gravestone in one form or another. I could say so much more about him than that.

I could say amazing. Wonderful. A hero. The best thing that ever happened to me. I could say a hundred things, a million things. But I don't think all the things I have to say would fit on one tombstone.

Maybe just one phrase would be enough. Just one.

"I love you."

That's enough.

I give his grave one final look and walk away, knowing that I'll never come back.

x x x

I don't go to the Leaving Feast that night, even though I know that these are the last hours I'll ever spend at Hogwarts. It just wouldn't be the same without Cedric.

I sneak up to his dormitory while everyone else is at dinner. I've already decided to spend the time I have left reminiscing. I climb onto that familiar Hufflepuff bedspread and pull the curtains around me. I grab his pillow and bring it to my face, inhaling deeply. Everything here still smells like him.

I take the pillow with me, sitting in the exact center of the bed, and tug at the shirt. Cedric's shirt. In spite of everything, a faint smile manages to light up my face. I remember everything about this shirt.

It was the summer before fifth year. We were at Diagon Alley, buying clothes in Madam Malkin's shop. Cedric, as usual, was whining up a storm. The boy had never liked clothes shopping, so I usually ended up picking his things for him. I thought this would be one of those occasions. But then he spotted the shirt.

"What about this one, Skylar?" he asked, pulling at something hanging in the clearance rack.

I rolled my eyes. "Cedric, how many times do I have to tell you? Anything on Malkin's clearance rack is stained, ripped or…" But my voice trailed off as I looked.

It was actually a decent shirt.

"We're buying it," I said calmly, heaping it on top of the armful of clothes I already held.

"You know, Skylar," he said, leaning against the wall as I walked over to the check-out. "With the way you buy things for both of us all the time, some people are going to think we're married."

Merlin. How that boy used to make me blush.

Even though he'd tried so hard not to make it a big deal, he'd worn that shirt the first day of fifth year. I think he was proud of himself for finding something wearable on his own.

That first day of school was the first day I finally came to terms with the truth: what I felt for Cedric was so much more than a schoolgirl crush. It was the day I realized that when you've felt the same way for five years, it doesn't just go away.

As usual, Cedric was oblivious to my epiphany.

I tried out for the Quidditch team that year, because Cedric was the captain and he kept bothering me to try, at least once.

"Come on, Skylar, it'll be fun!" I remember him saying.

Well, he lied. It was more or less a nightmare. I had to use one of the school's brooms, and everything went wrong from there. He told us to fly around the Pitch once, but my broom ended up bucking and spinning like a wild stallion. Potential Chasers had to try and catch Quaffles thrown from five or so different directions. I think I caught one. Or one and half.

It was a royal screw-up. But I do remember him wearing that shirt.

He came up to me after, laughing in spite of himself, saying, "Skylar, you're my best friend and all, but I can't let you on the team."

_Best friend._ Those words were the second-best thing he could have said to me.

And he did say the first best. He said 'I love you' two years later.

But the best memory? The best one of all?

I rub my face in the pillow and think. My whole relationship with Cedric (the boyfriend/girlfriend one) in seventh year is definitely at the top.

But there was that one summer. The summer before sixth year.

We sneaked out of the house on the last night of summer vacation. I remember the black shirt clinging to his body in the early morning atmosphere. He wouldn't tell me why we were sneaking out until we got there. "There" was a huge rolling hill in the countryside, covered in scarce flowers and lush green grass. We stayed out all night long, just talking. With Cedric, you didn't always have to have a conversation going. The silence was just as beautiful.

We watched the sunrise together. And as the big golden sphere peeked over the horizon, he took my hand in that special best-friend way and said, "Skylar, I'm always going to be with you. I promise."

And as I wrap my arms tighter around the pillow, I know he never broke his promise. He's still here with me now, watching me, protecting me. Loving me. Loving me the way I love him.

Now is the moment I thank him for everything. Inhale, exhale, speak.

"Thanks, Ced."

_Fin._


End file.
